Polar Opposites
by isharaine
Summary: AKA The President is a Butler! Takumi Usui is a man with a mission. Ever since the all-girls' Seika High School became co-ed, he, along with the few boys enrolled in the school, have been fending off male-starved girls, enduring harassment and bullying. The biggest challenge he has to overcome? Misaki Ayuzawa, the Queen of Seika. UsuiXMisa
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Kaichou Wa Maid-Sama belongs to Fujiwara Hiro, and I make no money from this.

A/N: I was cleaning out my hard drive when i found the beginning of a story I had written last year. What if Usui and Ayuzawa traded places? :D Hope you enjoy XD

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"Wash it off," Takumi Usui snaps to a pair of freshmen with too much makeup on. "You may not enter the campus unless you conform to the school dress code."

He points to the too-short skirts of a group of senior girls, who glare at him, chewing gum and rolling their eyes. These particular girls are infamous for getting into fights, and terrorizing the rest of the Student council. Not President Usui, though, because nothing gets past him.

As the Demon President of Seika High School, his reputation precedes him, but every day is a struggle. Seika High used to be an all-girls' school, but to expand the student body, boys were starting to be admitted in the past few years. The male population was still a minority, but Takumi Usui has made it his mission to reform the school and even out the laws and rules geared towards protecting the girls.

He became president to fight the tyranny of women, and now here he was, inspecting all the girls who came in daily. It would be a great job for another man, but Takumi Usui hates girls and will not let them get away with breaking the rules. He scowls at the senior girls, who make faces at him.

His vice president, Yukimura, runs to him, out of breath. "President! Come quickly! We have a student threatening to jump off the roof."

Yelling at the cowering girls to fix their uniforms, he turns on his heel and races into the building. He has a feeling it's got something to do with-

She drifts down the stairs as if her feet do not touch the ground, dark hair bouncing with every step.

"You," he breathes. Misaki Ayuzawa, the bane of his existence. She flicks her amber eyes over him, not saying anything. "I'll deal with you later." He races past her, climbing the stairs, flinging the door to the roof open. He sees the third-year perched on the edge of the roof, bawling his eyes out.

"Please," Usui calls out. "Don't kill yourself. She's not worth it."

The upperclassman wipes his eyes on his sleeve. "Yes, she is! And she rejected me. I don't want to live anymore."

Usui bends over, grabbing the throbbing stitch in his side. "No she's not. She's just a stuck-up bitch," he gasps. "Totally not worth the breath you say her name with."

The would-be jumper glares at him. "That is not true! Ayuzawa- "

' _Called it_ ,' Usui thinks to himself, grim and annoyed.

"-is a goddess. She is truly an angel. Don't you dare talk about her that way. I will beat the crap out of you, even if you are the student council president!" The older boy jumps back on the roof, raising a fist menacingly as he grabs the front of Usui's uniform.

"Shinichi," her voice calls out from the open doorway.

The older boy drops him to the ground, his eyes on her. "Ayuzawa-san. Did you change your mind?" Usui rolls his eyes at the hope in the other boy's voice.

"No," she replies firmly, moving to stand between him and Usui. "But were you really going to jump?"

He nods. "I don't want to live in a world without you," he says earnestly.

Her slap has the older boy staggering backwards, holding his cheek. "Ayu- Ayuzawa-san," He whimpers.

Usui watches as the slender girl advances on the cowering third-year, getting more annoyed with every step that she takes.

"Did you think," -kick- "I would," -kick- "date a coward" -kick- "who tries to kill himself?" She snarls, tossing her hair with every kick. "Is your life so cheap? Go ahead and jump, then."

She grabs him by the collar and yanks him to the railing. "See that? You were going to jump that. Do it, then. It's only five floors." The taller boy pulls away from her grasp, tears streaming down his face, but she is merciless. "If the fall doesn't kill you, you could break every bone in your body and live the rest of your life sipping your meals out of a straw."

Her fistful of his collar draws his head over the railing. "Look again, Shinichi." Her words are cold.

"That's enough, Ayuzawa," Usui snaps. "Violence against other students is prohibited. I'll have you written up for this."

She releases the older boy, and he falls on his ass, backing away from the edge. Usui helps the sobbing upperclassman to his feet. She ignores them both, crossing her arms to look out at the view. A crowd has gathered at the entrance of the roof, and Usui assists the older boy inside with an arm around his waist. He glances over his shoulder to see Ayuzawa turn her head to watch their retreating backs out of the corner of her eye.

Though technically she has done nothing wrong, Usui hates women like her, who think nothing of the poor shmucks who will literally kill themselves for her. This is not the first time someone has threatened suicide over her, and Usui grimly suspects it will not be the last. And between the would-be suicides and the fights he has to break up between boys wanting to date her, Misaki Ayuzawa is a pain in the ass.

With a last glare in her direction, he drags Shinichi down to the clinic.

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He is waiting by the school gates when the day is over, giving the younger girls an evil eye when he sees their shortened skirts.

"Is he gay or what?" One freshman whispers to her friend, hastily scampering away. "Why is he so picky about our clothes?"

Then he sees her. Her tie is loosened around her neck, and the top button is undone, but as far as dress code is concerned, she is perfectly compliant. It annoys him, because she always looks like she is breaking code, or up to something, even when she isn't.

She glides towards him, golden eyes mocking, as her shoulders and head dip into an exaggerated, sarcastic curtsy. "President."

"Ayuzawa," he snarls. "You have got to find a better way to turn down these proposals without causing them to attempt suicide."

She looks at him impassively. "Okay."

"Okay? That's it?" Even her nonchalance is annoying and he is getting mighty tired of cleaning up her messes.

He watches with narrowed eyes as Misaki shrugs, straightens, and ambles away as if she was on a catwalk. His annoyance remains with him even as he runs to his job, as a butler for a cosplay cafe.

It is three train stops, a connecting bus and a dash down four blocks before he gets to his destination, a nondescript building in the next town, with only a bowtie on the door. He goes to the back alley, slipping inside the back door, greeting his boss, Satsuki Hyodo with a bow.

"Right on time," the older man beams, looking much younger than his 40+ years. "Your suit's just been dry-cleaned. And it's a full house today, so get out there and help out Subaru and Hotaka as soon as you can."

"Yes, sir," Usui replies, rushing into the locker rooms. He rakes a handful of gel through his blond hair, making sure to tame every last lock, and dons his butler uniform and non-prescription glasses. He has never seen a student from his school, and hopes to keep it that way, since his reputation as the Demon Student President would die a horrible death if anyone did catch him at his job. The glasses are an extra disguise for him, to ensure his anonymity.

He heads out to the customer area, welcoming the newest arrivals with a bow. The girls swoon, of course. Takumi has never been shy about his looks, and is grateful that he can make money off of them. This is the one useful thing his good-for-nothing mother gave him.

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The shift flies by, and as the day turns to night, he finds himself in the back alley, throwing out the garbage. Looking up, he meets the golden eyes of his nemesis, Misaki Ayuzawa. She comes to a full stop, her languid gaze raking him from head to toe.

It might be too late to deny anything, but in his panic, he does an abrupt about-face, walking back into the store. Takumi's heart is pounding; it is probably the first time any girl has made his heart race. But, he must finish the rest of his shift, so he washes his hands and gets back out there.

Two hours pass, and his shift is over. Subaru, a college student, pounds him on the back to congratulate him for a job well done. He dreads going home, but then, Ayuzawa is a girl, and she probably won't be out this late. Changing back to his street clothes, he bows one last time to his manager, before heading out the back door.

There she is, waiting patiently, her waves of dark hair obscured by the hoodie she wears like a model. She is out of her uniform, in a very sporty outfit, as if she was getting ready to chase him down.

"So it is you, President," she quips, her eyes gleaming in the dark like a cat's. Damn it. Of all the people to catch him, it had to be her.

Swallowing his irritation, Usui shoulders his backpack. "Where are you headed, Ayuzawa? I'll walk you home."

A look of amusement crosses her face. "What is this, is our Demon President actually a gentleman?" she quips, pushing off the wall to stand before him.

"You're still a girl, Ayuzawa. It's getting late. I'm walking you home." He ignores her taunting, fighting his rising panic. What will she do next? They walk to the train station in silence, both lost in thought. If she tells anyone in school he works as a butler in a butler cafe, he would lose any credibility he had with the student population.

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It turns out that they live in the same direction, and that her house is two stops away, in a tall condominium. The train is full of people heading home from work, just at rush hour. He ends up crammed with her into a corner, people shoving at his back. Bracing a hand over her shoulder, he tries not to make eye contact, studying the ceiling. He can tell that she is studying his face, but ignores it. The train brakes suddenly, sending her hurtling into his chest. Her scent rises, an expensive perfume that intoxicates him, her arms wrapping around his waist to gain traction and avoid falling onto the floor. He closes his eyes, trying to endure.

"Sorry," she breathes, regaining her balance. He grunts in response, his face burning.

After they get off, Usui notes that it is now night. The moon and the streetlights lead them to a small playground beside the street. "Let's sit for a moment," Misaki tells him, skipping to a bench.

Usui observes her for a bit. He can see why this girl has all the poor boys in the school mad about her. She's pretty enough, with a slender figure and perfectly-sized breasts (as far as the oversized hoodie will let him imagine), but it is the arresting colour of her eyes that catches attention immediately, and they have a feline tilt to them that most men would find irresistible. Her long, dark hair, untainted by any dye, ends in luxurious curls that most girls would die for. She probably isn't wearing makeup either, but is just one of those natural beauties.

"Usui, here!" she calls, patting the seat next to her. Scowling, he takes the seat, careful to keep a distance between them. He must not fall for her feminine wiles; she is the most dangerous girl of all of them. "So, why are you working there?"

He grits his teeth. Is she trying to blackmail him? "I have no choice. My dad, he's a single dad, and he tends to get sick a lot. I also have a little brother, in middle school. This is the only job I could find that paid well enough, with hours that I could actually work." Staring straight ahead, the resentment churns in his stomach. Why does he have to admit anything to this girl? "I am asking you, please, not to spread this around at school."

She stares at him for a long moment. "I'm not going to." The wind picks up, blowing her hair around her face, framing it. In spite of himself, Usui feels a pull towards this girl. His fists curl around the edge of the bench. She is the biggest player in the school, oozing her female pheromones all over the place. The more annoying thing was that she was also the top student, her grades always edging him out of first place by a small margin, every month. She wasn't even trying, everything came so easy to her. Fury comes easy now, a barrier between him and his urge to touch her. He looks away.

Beside him, she rises to her feet. "Don't push yourself too hard, president. And don't worry, I'm not going to tell anyone." When he turns back, she is gone. Sprinting towards the street, he looks around for signs of her, but doesn't find any. Hoping she got home safely, he rounds the block, just in case. She is his responsibility, after all. Still no sign of Misaki Ayuzawa.

Defeated, he heads home, to where his father fusses over him and his little brother stares at him with too-old eyes.

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	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for your lovely reviews and comments. Usui and Misa are my fav characters and I have tried really hard to keep them in character. Here is Chapter II. :D Cheers!

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Three days pass. Three days full of anxiety that has Takumi Usui jumping at every hint of gossip, tiptoeing past every gaggle of girls. He has seen neither hide nor hair of Misaki Ayuzawa. He can't tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing. She missed class since he saw her last, and the teachers seem calm about it. The suspense is killing him.

Her homeroom teacher calls him over to the faculty room at the end of the day. "Usui, you're excused from class duties today. I need you to take this to Ayuzawa." She hands him the homework assignments of the past three days. "It's not like she needs to do this, she's got perfect scores anyway. She just wants to. Weird kid, but hey. I know you guys aren't even in the same class, but your house isn't too far away from hers, and the student council doesn't have a meeting today."

"Is she sick?" he asks casually, trying not to show too much interest.

"Oh, no, she was excused from school because she had a competition. She plays the violin," the teacher says absently. "I think she placed first. You can ask her when you see her." She gives him Ayuzawa's address and cell number. "I would ask the class president of her class to do it, but he's got cleanup duty."

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Which is how he finds himself at the glass doors of a glass-and-steel tower, pretty close to the playground. His hand hovers over the buzzer as he debates with himself if he should just ring the bell and then run away, leaving the homework in an envelope with her name on it. That would be the coward's way out, he scolds himself. There is nothing he should fear from this temptress with eyes the color of amber. He reminds himself that she is the epitome of all he hates about girls; arrogant, the kind of girl who thinks she can get away with anything because of her beauty, the kind who steps on men to get where she needs to be. His hands clench into fists. There is no way he is afraid of her.

Case in point: he is here right now because she couldn't be bothered to go to school herself and collect her own assignments. They aren't even classmates, but there you have it. Takumi frowns at her level of irresponsibility. Checking his watch, he finds that he has two hours and a half before his shift starts at the Cafe. Well,

Ringing the buzzer according to the teacher's instructions, Ayuzawa's voice comes out breathlessly. "Yes?"

"It's-," Takumi clears his throat. "It's Usui. From Seika." Idiot, he thinks, of course she knows where you go to school. "I'm here with your homework."

"Oh, good. I'll let you up. Go to the 17th floor," she instructs, hanging up before he can object. What is he, her errand boy? Why is she ordering him around like this? The door opens, giving him access, and he heads inside, frowning. No, he shouldn't let her know that she is getting to him. Putting on an impassive face, he steps inside the futuristic elevator, studying the buttons.

There is no 17th floor on the panel, only a button marked P for penthouse. The next highest floor is the 16th. Is she trying to show off how rich she is? He stabs the P button, his mouth a straight line. The elevator goes up with an efficient hum, and he arrives there in seconds. The doors are unmarked, even by numbers, so Takumi checks his teacher's instructions again. Unit 5, it says.

One of the doors opens, and Ayuzawa pokes her head out. "President, come on in." He heads to the door, intending to hand her the envelope, but she isn't there, and the door is ajar.

"Have a seat," her voice floats back to him from somewhere inside the apartment.

"I don't want to impose," he calls back the proper answer. Takumi is determined not to let her see how much she rattles him. "Are your parents here?"

She does not reply. Curiosity gets the better of him, and so, he finds himself pushing the door open.

The apartment is massive, compared to the tiny home he lives in, and there are no walls. Except for a door in the far wall, everything is open and spacious. And, surprisingly, even if the floor is marble and the walls are wood paneled, the apartment is sparsely furnished. There is one big sofa pushed up against the wall, and a table with four chairs, but aside from that, there does not seem to be anything else. About half of the living room is covered in exercise mats, the kind that dojos use. Are her parents instructors?

"Pardon the intrusion," Takumi announces, in case her parents can hear. "I'm Takumi Usui, the Student Council President of Ayuzawa's high school."

"Who are you talking to?" Ayuzawa asks, emerging from the door. She is dressed in a hakama and gi, her long black hair pulled into a sleek ponytail. Avoiding her eyes, he holds out the envelope.

"Are your parents here?" he inquires. "I should greet them." The apartment is so big that his voice echoes through the room, yet there is no sign that it is anything more than a hotel room. There are no personal touches, no art or photos at all.

"No, I live alone." She eyes him speculatively. "By the way, do you know kendo?"

Confused by the question, he nods. If she lives alone, what business does she have inviting him up here? His opinion of her plummets further. Is she that kind of girl? Funny, but he never heard of that. Her reputation is more of an untouchable Madonna, an unattainable beauty beloved by the girls and worshipped by the boys. Also, he was captain of the kendo team at his middle school, but she doesn't know that. Ayuzawa smiles. "Great. My sparring partner didn't show up. You can spar with me. My promotion test is coming up."

Usui hesitates. On the one hand, it would be great to practice again, and he does have the time. On the other hand, this is Ayuzawa, a girl living alone. If she were to get hurt, or claim she did, it would be a problem. This could be a trap.

"I don't have gear," Takumi tells her. She is already striding away to a closet, ponytail bobbing.

"Do you know ukemi?" she asks over her shoulder, referring to the basic falling technique in most martial arts to avoid injury.

"Yes," he sighs, giving up and putting down his bag. Emerging from the closet, she is holding a wooden sword and a set of protective clothing. And so, in ten minutes, Takumi finds himself standing in front of her, holding the sword.

"Wait," he protests. "Shouldn't I have head gear? And where is your sword?"

"Oh, I should have told you, we're sparring for Aikido. I need to defend myself against sword attacks," Ayuzawa tells him sheepishly. "Are you ok with this? There is no need to hold back just because I am a girl."

"Then why did you ask if I knew kendo?" Usui snaps, irritated. Sword attacks do not need any particular skill, not in aikido defense.

She smirks at him. "I had a feeling you were good at sheathing your sword, but I wanted to see how well you could handle it," she tells him with a wink. The innuendo makes his ears burn, but he chooses to ignore it. He wasn't planning to hold back, anyway. They go through their stretches separately.

"Are you ready?" she finally asks, the corner of her lips curling. He raises the sword over her head and attacks. A few swift movements later, he is on his back, disarmed and pinned. They do this over and over, but he notices that she seems to be getting rougher on him. After one particularly brusque instance, he decides to put up a fight.

He rushes her again, and she deflects his arms with a well-placed blow. Instead of letting her grip his wrist and throw him, he circles around her legs with his other foot, using his elbow to hook her neck and push her off-balance. Her eyes sharpen, and she takes a step back, yanking his arm with her to keep him on his toes. He matches her, keeping his balance, whirling around behind her to lock the sword around her throat. "Checkmate," he tells her smugly.

Hooking her ankle around his, she goes down on one knee, flipping him over her back. "Finally, you're getting serious. I wanted a sparring partner, not a mannequin," she taunts, holding the sword over his hands. Her skin is warm and damp with perspiration, and there is that damned scent of hers again, making his head spin.

Twisting around from underneath her, he rolls to his feet, locking his gaze with hers. "I never thought you were the delicate princess type," he tells her, feeling an adrenaline spike. He goes into the next stance, "But don't go too overboard. Aren't you the queen of Seika?" Ironically, that is the name she is known by, among the male population of the school, and neighbouring schools as well.

Judging by the flash in her glare, he seems to have hit a nerve. Her famed brow furrows, and she lifts a hand in a "Come at me" motion, challenging him to another round. Exhilaration fills his veins. Since he became Student Council President, he hasn't had enough time to exercise like this, and not with an opponent as skilled as she.

Takumi holds the wooden sword up in the classic kendo stance, meeting her eyes over the tip. She nods at him, biting her lower lip in concentration. He attacks, no longer pulling his punches, now that he is confident she can take care of herself.

She defends herself, avoiding the blows. "Good job, President," she smirks, out of breath but not missing the sarcastic tone she uses when she calls him by his title. She knocks the sword out of his hands, not as easily this time, but Usui adjusts his angle, grabbing her by the sleeves. He twists her arms up behind her back, getting her on her tiptoes. Her scent is stronger now, probably because she is perspiring, and he tries his best to ignore it. Unexpectedly, she propels herself against the wall, landing behind him and switching their positions. Now it is Takumi who is pinned by the arms.

However, he has one advantage over her, and that is strength. He breaks her hold, locking onto her wrists. She tries to bring them up, but he grips them firmly, forcing them behind her back. Ayuzawa struggles, almost breaking his hold, so he lifts her up, pushing her back against the wall. Now, she has no leverage.

She twists in his arms, but Takumi has years of hard labor to hone him. He waits for her to tire herself out, hearing her gasp. "Are you going to tap out, Ayuzawa?" Takumi asks, breathing hard from his exertions. She is pinned between him and the wall, on her tiptoes, and the front of her body is pressed against his. The glow of perspiration on her skin transfixes him.

He bends his head down, instinctively. Staring up at him, she stops struggling, her eyes dark and intriguing. Overwhelmed by her warmth and scent, he has this sudden urge to kiss her. Abruptly, he stops and pulls his head away, gazing up at the ceiling. Her breath is warm on his throat. He swallows hard, certain that he has never felt this way around any girl.

"President, I didn't think you were this kind of guy," she snaps. He realizes, then, the impropriety of their positions. Alarmed, he releases her instantly, taking a few steps back.

"Ayuzawa, I'm sorry," he mutters. He had forgotten, for a few seconds, that she was a girl, and had gone overboard. "I should go. Thanks for the workout." Takumi heads for the bathroom, feeling his face heat up. He has never, in his life, lost control around a girl before. Quickly dressing, he folds the hakama and gi, propping them on top of the dresser. The cafe has a shower, and he doesn't want to spend another second in this empty apartment with this confusing girl.

Splashing cold water on his face helps cool down his anxiety. Takumi dries off quickly, staring at himself in the mirror. He almost kissed Misaki Ayuzawa, the Queen of Seika! What the heck is wrong with him? Her fans would have his head if they even found out. Luckily, he has reputation to protect him. Shaking his head, he opens the door and freezes.

Ayuzawa is standing by the window, pulling her gi off. Transfixed, he watches her discard the padded jacket on the floor, gazing out at the view, wearing only her lace camisole. What is she doing? She is a teenage girl, alone and vulnerable in an apartment with a stranger. With one lily-white hand, she pulls her long hair off her neck, fanning herself with the other. He can see the outline of her dark pink bra under the white cotton, and immediately does an about-face. Does Ayuzawa have any common sense at all?

"I'm leaving!" he announces, sprinting towards the door. His ears are burning from embarrassment, though he tells himself that it is she who should be ashamed.

"Wait, President," she calls after him.

Good manners be damned, he has to get away from this temptress. "I'm late for work. Sorry!" Takumi yells back, not daring to turn his head in her direction. Slipping his shoes on, he dashes out the door. He can hear her behind him. Skipping the elevator, he heads for the stairwell and runs all the way to the ground floor, making his escape.

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When Takumi arrives at the butler cafe, he is an hour early, just enough time to take a shower. As he unpacks his bag, he realizes he left his cellphone in Ayuzawa's apartment. Checking his watch, sees that there is no time to go back. With a sigh, he grabs his suit, and heads for the bathroom.

This week's special theme is thieves, a tie-in with a popular TV drama. Sighing, Takumi ties on a black mask that covers his eyes, glad for the disguise.

The shift is quiet and slow. Four of their regular customers are present, and the rest of the tables sit empty. Eiji, a 20-something who is trying to make it as a model, is the other person on his shift, and he whines to Takumi about the girl he met the previous week who is trying to rope him into a relationship. Takumi listens with half an ear, trying to figure out a way to retrieve his phone from Ayuzawa.

The door opens, and three senior girls from his school walk in. Takumi goes on alert. If any of them recognized him, his school life would be over. The girls are loud and obnoxious, but fall silent when he welcomes them at the door with a low bow. "Hey, doesn't he look like the Demon President?" one of them asks the others in a hiss, her nose ring gleaming in the dim cafe lights.

He remembers scolding them at the school gate the other day. Of course they would remember him. Takumi retreats to the employee area. "Eiji, can you take care of that table?" he asks his co-worker in a low voice. Eiji winks and gives him a thumbs-up. He takes care of the other tables, conscious of the senior girls' stares.

"Hey, you, blond guy!" The one with bleached hair calls out, flapping her wrist at him.

"I'm sorry, my lady, but Taku is not available right now," Eiji interjects smoothly. "How may I be of assistance?"

"Taku? His name is Taku?" the toughest looking one repeats, looking thoughtful. "What was Usui's first name again?"

Takumi closes his eyes, mentally cursing Eiji. Couldn't he have at least tried to give him an alias? Satsumi, aware of Takumi's predicament, steps out. "Stay inside for now, until they leave," the older man tells him. Takumi nods, feeling hunted.

The girls linger over their coffee, leaving him trapped in the employee area for a good half hour. Restless, Usui decides to take out the garbage. After all, he would feel guilty collecting money for his paycheck without doing any work. In the alley behind the cafe, he sorts out the recycling from the rubbish.

"I knew it was him," he hears behind him. To his horror, the three older girls are there, cell phones up and smirks on their faces. "Smile, Demon President."

Of all the times to forget his mask. He raises a rubber-gloved hand to block the photos. Suddenly, someone rushes in front of him, obscuring their view of him. With a sinking heart, he realizes it is Ayuzawa. "Excuse me," she says, bowing deeply to the other girls.

"What's with this chick?" Nose-ring girl asks Bleached blond. The other girl shrugs.

"I beg your pardon, but… Could you keep this a secret, please? As a personal favour to me?" Ayuzawa asks, the top half of her body parallel to the ground.

The wind goes out of their sails. "Is that… Misaki Ayuzawa?" The tough one gasps. Misaki rises gracefully, tucking a lock of hair behind her cheek as she grins at them."Yes, it totally is! Ayuzawa, you helped me out of a tight spot last year. I'm Emiko by the way." She frowns. "Why do you want to protect this asshole? He hates all the girls in our school."

"Well," Misaki bites her lip and looks at him, her eyes widening meaningfully. This is all an act, of course, he thinks, so he should play along. Slipping the garbage gloves off, he slips an arm around her waist, pulling her close.

"You caught me," he sighs loudly. "Misa and I are…" He has to swallow past the lump in his throat. "Dating." He can practically hear three jaws hit the ground at his statement.

"Y-you? You and the qu-queen?" Nose ring shrieks. He makes a mental note to inspect her nose closely on Monday. "Ayuzawa, are you serious?"

She smiles sweetly at them, reaching into her pocket. So she really can act feminine, he notes, if the situation warrants it. "Yeah, I came to drop off his phone, since he left it at my place earlier." Pulling out his phone, she presses it into his hands. Nothing that she has said is a lie, but Takumi digs his fingers into her hip, warning her not to go too far. Subtly, she moves her leg, digging her heel into the toes of his shoes until he releases her.

"You understand why we need to keep it a secret, right?" Takumi asks, summoning up his most innocent grin. Mesmerized, the girls nod. "Thank you very much. Please, feel free to visit the cafe again. I'll treat you ladies to a drink as thanks for keeping quiet."

After the three leave, Ayuzawa sinks to her knees, heaving a sigh of relief. He studies her, noting how her sheer presence screams money and class. Her hair gleams, even in this dingy alley, and her skin is luminous. His chest aches. Odd. He presses the heel of his palm to where his heart is galloping.

"Get up, Ayuzawa, the ground is dirty," he mutters, lifting her by the shoulders of her simple grey hoodie. It has been washed so many times that the cloth is soft and thin, but he can tell by the way it fits her that it's an expensive brand. Begrudgingly, his respect for her rises. She is such a contradiction. Be careful, his brain warns. She's still a girl.

"Before you yell at me, let me explain. I really did come to give you back your phone," Ayuzawa explains, her cheeks glowing pink. "I didn't mean to-"

He interrupts her with a raised hand. "Stop. Have you had dinner yet?" He remembers the bare apartment that she lives in, and wonders if she is lonely. He, of all people, should understand what it is like to be surrounded by people and feel alone. She is probably bored, which is why she's slumming it with him, but she did him a favour, after all. However, their sparring earlier had felt like a match between equals.

She avoids his eyes. "I swung by the convenience store for an onigiri. I'm fine. I waited a while since I figured you might be at work, so that I could give you back your phone."

"Come in and have dinner. It's the least I can do for your help." Mentally he calculates the cost of a meal for her, and sighs. "Then I'm walking you home afterwards. You could have brought the phone to school, you know."

She quirks an eyebrow up at him. "Then I would have missed the sight of the Demon President in a butler uniform. You're so cute, President." Her direct gaze is disconcerting.

"You must be hungry, you're spouting nonsense," Takumi grumbles, steering her inside.

.

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	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Chapter III, everyone. Thanks for reading! I'll try to update this weekly. Would love to make friends from this fandom, please feel free to PM me. Cheers :D

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III.

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Monday's assembly is full of half-awake students. Takumi surveys the student body from where he stands onstage, behind the rambling principal. Beside him, Yukimura fidgets with his uniform buttons. "One more week to spring break, President Usui," he whispers. "Do you think the students will get more rowdy?"

Takumi shakes his head, casting his gaze at the sea of mostly girls in front of them. "Not if I can help it," he vows, clapping his hands as the principal ends his speech. The older man nods to him, handing him a sheet of paper as he walks over to the side.

He takes the podium, slipping on his Demon President persona like a mask. Waiting a beat, the whispers quiet down when the students realize that he is there. A few groups of girls worship him in each grade. He has never understood it, hating women as much as he does, but at times like this they come in handy, shushing their classmates so that they can hear every word he says.

"With spring break approaching, I would like to remind everyone about the cultural festival coming up in three months. Your homeroom teachers will assign class reps for the festival committee, who shall meet three times a week and then daily for the month of the festival. Please think about what you would like to do for the festival," Takumi announces. "Creative ideas are encouraged, within reason and pending approval."

A movement on the fourth row catches his attention. Ayuzawa is slumped over, nodding off with her arms crossed. The male classmate beside her eases his arm around the back of her chair stealthily, taking advantage of the situation. Takumi narrows his eyes.

"Also, I would like to remind the students to be on their best behaviour, even if spring break is coming up. That includes going to karaoke rooms or bars, wearing too much makeup, shortening your skirts, public displays of affection…," His voice trails off as Ayuzawa tilts perilously close to the shoulder of the classmate. She catches herself in time, forcing her eyes open, oblivious to the arm behind her chair. The classmate looks disappointed. "Remember that you are Seika High students at all times. If you break any of the rules, you will be punished." Sleepily, she yawns, hiding her parted lips behind her fingertips. Her eyes crash into his.

Takumi's heart starts pounding quickly as she meets his gaze. She is probably the first girl who has ever looked him in the eye so directly, with absolutely no fear or shyness. Unflinchingly, she stares back at him, her golden eyes gleaming even at this distance. Transfixed, they stare at each other until the whispers start and Yukimura clears his throat loudly.

"Ayuzawa Misaki," Takumi drawls, watching her eyes widen. He should be more embarrassed, he supposes, but he rather likes the pink flush stealing across her cheeks. "Second year, section 1, won first place in the Suzuki Violin Competition, in the junior category. Please give her a round of applause. Stand up, Ayuzawa." He hides a smirk at the way her jaw drops, and her eyes dart around self-consciously. Her legendary composure is in shreds right now. She stands abruptly, bowing to everyone around her, tucking a lock of hair behind her cheek. The boys closest to her gaze at her with rapt admiration. Of course she has a fan club, composed of both genders, and they are all jumping for joy.

"And to our judo club, who placed second in the regional tournament. Team Captain…," he continues, reading from the paper that the principal handed him. His announcements are out of order, but one by one he congratulates the achievers of the school and nobody seems to mind. The three senior girls sprawled in the back row exchange knowing grins.

The blank look is back on Ayuzawa's face, but her cheeks are glowing. A surge of satisfaction rushes through him. Why is it so much fun to ruffle her feathers? Because she is his nemesis, he decides, concluding his speech. He finishes with a bow, heading back to the side of the stage while the rest of the school rises to their feet to sing the school song.

"Are you okay, President? You seemed to lose your train of thought halfway," Yukimura whispers over the unenthusiastic, mostly off-key rendition of their school anthem. He nods, his eyes scanning the audience for the familiar head of dark hair. Her eyes lock onto his, and she raises an eyebrow accusingly. He is unable to control the smile from spreading across his own face, so he looks up, at the ceiling, forcing an innocent smile.

"Did you see that?" a freshman girl squeaks loudly from the front row, pointing at him. "The Demon President smiled! And he was totally hot when he did that!" Suddenly all eyes of the assembly are on him and now the tables are turned. Unlike Ayuzawa, he doesn't shy away from the limelight, flashing a grin and a wink. A collective female sigh rises, with a male voice groaning, "President, don't steal my girlfriend's heart!" from somewhere in the crowd.

His nemesis isn't even looking at him. She is gazing into the screen of her phone, a shuttered expression on her face. He would take offense that she even had her phone out, but there must be something wrong. She is completely focused on whatever she is reading, and her back has gone ramrod-straight. Slipping her phone back into the pocket of her blazer, she stares unseeingly ahead, her jaw set in a stubborn line.

Something's up. He has seen her almost in her underwear, but she wasn't as vulnerable then as she is now. Funny he should notice how her eyebrows knit slightly, how her fingers clench into a fist. Yukimura pushes his shoulder. "Let's go, Prez. Class is starting soon and we need to go over the budget proposals." What is he doing, letting himself be distracted by her? Shaking his head to clear it, Takumi exits the stage with the rest of the council. On his way out, he passes by the three senior girls, who are grinning from ear to ear. Nose Ring even gives him a thumbs up.

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"Hey, Mr. President," Hanazono drawls, aiming a basketball at Takumi's head later in Gym class. "Feels like we haven't seen you in forever. You look… tired. Like someone chewed you up and spit you out, but more than normal."

Takumi catches it easily, glaring at his friend. "The student council and my part time job take up most of my time, you know that." He throws it at the third student in their group, the bespectacled Kaga.

"And studying, too, I suppose," Kaga snorts. "Which is why you're still the second in our grade." After Ayuzawa, Takumi finishes mentally, frowning as he receives the ball. "Three player catch is too boring. I wish there were more boys in our class."

Hanazono turns, winking at the girls at the other side of the gym. A wave of titters runs through them. "Speak for yourself, four-eyes. Look at all these girls, ripe for the taking. This is probably your best chance to get a girlfriend, Kaga. You wouldn't stand a chance if there were more guys around." He heaves a happy sigh. "Mixed-gender PE is the best. I can't wait for summer when we all go to the pool for swimming class."

Takumi makes a mental note to request gender-segregated classes for swimming from the PE teacher. He really does not need to be ogled by these man-hungry beasts like a piece of meat. "There is more to life than girls, you know," Kaga retorts. "By the way, what was that about, this morning at the assembly? It's not like you to smile like that. You almost started a riot."

The vice-principal pokes his head into the gym. "Usui! Can I talk to you for a minute?" Saved before he can answer, Takumi waves to his friends, striding through the gaggle of girls towards the main door. He hears their whispers as he pushes past them, but really doesn't care. Girls are an annoyance that come with the job, after all.

"Yes, Sir?" he asks, standing in the hallway.

"Can you get the class committee members to meet for a briefing tomorrow afternoon in the conference hall instead of the AV Room? Here's the list of points I want you to discuss with them," the vice-principal says, handing him a sheaf of papers.

He skims over the numbers, mentally sighing as he sees how low this year's budget is. "I understand that the school is not doing so well, Vice-Principal. May we raise funds for the festival through sponsorships?"

The older man crosses his arms. "We used to make do with much less than that, President Usui. You'll have to do your due diligence with any of the businesses or individuals that you request sponsorships from. I will not have the Seika name dragged through the mud. Submit a list of possible sponsors to me before the end of the week. And a draft of the sponsorship letters you will be sending out. Also, please outline a plan for the sponsorship packages, and a breakdown of the total that you will be requesting, and how you plan to spend it. We're not some fancy elite school, President. We don't need all the trimmings for our cultural festival."

Great. He's offended the vice-principal. But Takumi Usui is determined to make this the best cultural festival this school has ever seen. After all, this is the first he has helmed.

"Yes, sir," Takumi responds with a bow. "I shall have them with you by Thursday."

The Sanitation and Health officer for the student council comes running up at a full sprint, almost crashing into them. "P- president," Utsumi gasps, bending over to catch her breath. "There was a delivery of frogs and reptiles in the biology lab today, but they seem to have escaped their container. There are about sixty of them and the floor is flooded."

"Excuse me, Vice-Principal." He bows to the older man, falling into step behind her. "Okay, who are available to clean it up? I can round up some people."

"W-well…," Utsumi stammers, biting her lip pensively. She is a timid little mouse of a girl, who Takumi knows is terrified of him, so he waits patiently. "M-most of the girls who were in class at the time freaked out and ran, and the boys in the class refused to do it if the girls weren't willing to. It's the second year section five."

"Thank you for telling me," Usui mutters, rolling up the sleeves of his tracksuit. "Let's head to the student council office and see who's available. I need to drop these papers off anyway. If nobody is there, I want you to run to the broadcasting office and page Yukimura and the rest of the council. Warn them that they may need to wear their gym clothes."

By the time he arrives, the biology lab is a mess. The teacher is on her hands and knees, chasing after the amphibians. "Oh, thank God, Usui, you're here," she calls out. "Grab a pair of gloves."

The rest of the student council joins him shortly afterwards, complaining loudly about the mess they have to clean up.

"Come on, we're the student council," he barks at them, dropping a handful of frogs into a bucket. "This is why we were chosen. We do the jobs that nobody else wants." It takes them a little over two hours to set the science laboratory to rights. At the end of it, he trudges back to the locker room, glad he was not in his uniform.

Yukimura joins him. "By the way, President, the inspection roster and records that you wanted are done. I set them up on your table in the council office. We're all set to give the report to the Principal on Thursday." With a loud groan, he stretches out on the bench. "I wish there were more boys on the student council. The girls complained too much about everything."

"That's enough. I'm going to shower," Takumi mutters, grabbing his towel. There is a mountain of work waiting for him, it seems, and the mountain keeps growing. The hot water feels like heaven, and in the shower, at least, he is alone. For a moment, only the sound of rushing water fills his world, and he takes a deep breath, letting the water pound his back. Then a pair of gold eyes pops into his head, making him crank up the water. Bracing his hands on the wall, he ducks his head under the spray, trying to wash her out of his thoughts.

Misaki Ayuzawa. Even her name makes his hands ball into fists, while his heart kicks into overdrive. It has been three days since she made that awkward defence, when he claimed that they were dating. Good Lord, he hopes those three kept their mouths shut. But why would she protect him against them? Damn it, he even understood her reasoning, convoluted as it was. The news that the Queen and the Demon President were dating was far, far bigger than the news of him working as a butler in a cosplay cafe. What was her motive, though? And the idea of dating Ayuzawa…

Not that they were dating, of course. Not that he wants her. He doesn't. Grabbing a handful of shampoo, he scrubs his hair into a lather. Of course he doesn't want her. He doesn't even want a girlfriend. Where would he get the time or the money for one, especially one as high-maintenance as she is?

Though… Last Friday, he had cooked an omurice for her on his break, with the permission of his boss. She had been astounded, eyes round as saucers when he served it to her with "Thanks" written in ketchup. The happy noises Ayuzawa made in her throat, and the way her eyes had rolled back in pleasure still lingered in his head. One would think she had never had omurice before. Even his useless mother had made it for him as a child. The empty apartment crosses his mind again.

And today, at the assembly, that look on her face… for a split second, she looked lost. That feeling was one he knew well. "You've got enough on your plate," he scolds himself aloud, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes until fireworks dance behind his lids. "There's no need to go looking for trouble."

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Two hours later, he is at the cafe entrance, greeting the girl he has been trying not to think about all day. He really should have known better. Trouble, after all, seems to find him easily.

"Welcome to the Butler Cafe, my lady," he recites, glaring at her. She seems her normal, cool self. All that angst for nothing, he thinks, disgusted with himself.

The ghost of a smile crosses her face, mocking him. "Mr. President," she murmurs softly, so only he can hear. What is her game this time? She waits expectantly. He leads her to the furthest table from the door, closest to the service area.

"What do you want?" Takumi hisses at her, slapping the menu on the table. It earns him a curious glare from Eiji, who saunters over.

"My lady Misaki, welcome back!" the college student grins, bending over her hand. "You are looking lovelier every time I see you!" He did meet her last week, Takumi remembers, and had asked for her phone number, only to be politely shot down in one of smoothest rejections he had ever witnessed. Misaki Ayuzawa was a pro at turning boys down, it seemed.

"It's the second time you've seen her," Takumi grumbles, forcing his way between them. "Go wait on your tables."

"Don't worry, I won't steal your lady. Anyone can see she's only got eyes for you," Eiji teases, slipping back to his area.

Takumi turns to the girl, pushing his fake glasses up his nose. "What do you want, Ayuzawa?"

She leans back into her chair, eyeing his getup with a smirk. "The livery of a servant suits you well, Prez. Can I really ask you to do weird things?"

That idiot Eiji must have told her about their ' _butler services._ ' "What would you like to drink, my lady?" he recites tonelessly through gritted teeth.

"A cup of coffee please. And…," her amber eyes dart away for a moment. "That egg thing you made last time. It was delicious. One of those as well."

The bell at the front door jangles. He automatically turns to the entryway to greet the newcomer, but his blood turns to ice when he spots the three senior girls. Dropping quickly to one knee, he takes Ayuzawa's hand in his, staring soulfully into her eyes. Startled, she tries to pull away, but notices the new arrivals. He proclaims loudly, "My lady, I'll make your omurice with all my heart." He ignores the little twitch of laughter her lips make, pressing a kiss to the back of her knuckles. She goes completely still.

Her skin is soft, which makes total sense. She is a pampered princess, after all. But there are calluses on the fingertips, and a writer's bump on her middle finger, against which he rubs his thumb absently. Ayuzawa snatches her hand back, her stomach growling loudly. "Just go," she mutters, her cheeks glowing.

Once the swinging door closes behind him, Takumi crouches down, trying to calm the mad fluttering of his stomach. Did she really come back for him, or because she was hungry and had nowhere else to go? What is this woman doing to him?

"Hey, Takumi, what's the order?" Satsuki calls from behind the grill.

"Oh, one omurice," he replies, unfolding himself. Hopefully, Satsuki hasn't noticed anything odd about his behaviour.

"Okay," Satsuki grins, waving a spatula at him.

"Actually," he blurts out, surprising himself. "Can I make it?" Satsuki raises an eyebrow but agrees, heading outside to cover him. Carefully avoiding eye contact, Takumi dons the apron and makes the dish. Once it is done, Satsuki returns, smiling from ear to ear.

"Takumi, you rascal, you didn't tell me your girlfriend was here," he teases.

Takumi hands him the apron. "She's not my girlfriend," he mutters, picking up the plate.

.

Ayuzawa stays for three hours, until the Butler Cafe closes. It is kind of a blessing, because the three senior girls seem to have fixated on him, especially after he gave them their free drinks. To be fair, she did pull out her textbooks and do her homework. But why is she waiting for him?

"Don't your parents worry that you're out so late? It's nine on a school night," Takumi mutters, after finding her on the sidewalk.

"No," she replies curtly, falling into step beside him. They walk the five blocks in silence, towards the train station. Popping her headphones in, she pulls the hood over her head to block the cool night breeze. He cannot decide whether she is trying to be rude, or is just incredibly comfortable with his presence. The second thought is both aggravating and disturbing to Takumi, so he pulls out his own phone, just to have something to do. There is a message from his little brother.

" _Please swing by the grocery store at the station. The eggs are on sale tonight_ ," it reads. He sighs. Sasuke Usui plays the role of mother in their family, and takes thriftiness to a new level, even at age 13. Takumi knows he shouldn't feel guilty about his younger brother taking care of him, but he does. "Chalk another one up to the dysfunctional Usui parents," he grumbles aloud, resentment curdling his stomach.

She doesn't hear him. They stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change, and he takes advantage of this pause to glance at his companion. The light, sophisticated fragrance she wears taunts him, and her eyes are bleak, staring unseeingly ahead. A lock of hair blows against her lips, but she is too preoccupied to care. What is she thinking about?

Without him noticing it, his hand reaches up, catching the silky strands between two fingers. Her cheek is warm against his knuckles, and softer than he could ever imagine. She turns her head, startled, that golden gaze crashing into his, and now he can feel her lips, decadently plush and just a little bit damp.

The moment stretches out while he looks at her. Strange how he can hear his heartbeat thundering in his ears, while her breath burns his skin. He lowers his hand, tracing the curve of her cheek, mesmerized. Unable to help himself, Takumi lowers his head towards her, intoxicated by her touch, drowning in her eyes.

At that moment, a drunken salaryman pushes between them, slurring out, "Damn kids, the light's green. Don't block the sidewalk. Just go home, okay? What kind of students are you? Think of your parents!" He staggers across the street, leaving the two of them alone.

Takumi takes a step back, panicking. A cynical look crosses Ayuzawa's face, one that she quickly hides, pulling her hood forward as she crosses the street. Takumi is rooted to the ground, watching her walk away from him. The crossing light changes, stranding him on the other side of the street. "Wait," he calls out before she can disappear, once his brain kicks in. "Ayuzawa, can I have your phone number?"

The last thing he sees of her is a faint smile curving her lips. With a mocking bow, she replies, "Good night, President," and walks off into the night.

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	4. Chapter 4

A/N: It's surprisingly difficult to write and update two stories every week, but i will do my best to keep the schedule regular. If I can't, I will at least make the chapters longer, ok? Thank you guys so much for reading this. I love hearing from you, and thank you so much for your kind reviews. I am so new to this fandom and you have been spectacular. Thanks! 3

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IV.

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The ghost of that smile and the look in her eyes, haunts Takumi through the rest of the evening. When he arrives home, he notes that his father's room is dark again. "I'm home," he says in a whisper, kicking off his school shoes.

"Welcome back, bro," Sasuke sings out from the kitchen. "Were you able to grab the eggs? I won a meat package in a mail-in raffle, so I put that in the fridge. By the way, be careful, there's a hole in the floorboards. Have you eaten yet?"

Flicking on the switch, Takumi hopes the hallway light will come on, since the bulb has been flickering for a while. After a halfhearted spark, the bulb goes out. Dejectedly, he flips the switch back off, deciding to feel his way through the hallway while carrying the eggs. Edging his way around the hole, he makes it to the kitchen. Sasuke looks up from the pile of books and magazines, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the groceries. "You're the best, big bro!" he chortles, retrieving the package from him. "Here, let me pay you from the household budget."

Takumi knows better than to argue, though it breaks his heart. Their house runs on the money from their dad's disability check, and whatever money he can bring in. There is not much left after school fees and food, but thankfully they own their house. His brother pulls out an old can from under the sink, counting out the exact amount.

"The bulb outside went out," Takumi tells him.

"Maybe the electric bill will go down, by a bit," Sasuke jokes, his eyes crinkling at the sides. They both know that there won't be room in this month's budget. "Dad didn't turn the light on in his room today. I wonder if he's also trying to save money." His smile turns sad. "I tried to wake him for dinner, but he pretended to be asleep."

Typical, Takumi thinks, but he holds his silence. Speaking of budgets, he has to come up with a fundraising plan for the Cultural Festival. Bidding Sasuke goodnight, he heads upstairs to his room.

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Takumi stays up for most of the night drafting solicitation letters and racking his brains, trying to think of companies and local businesses that would be willing to sponsor their festival. He has no time to catch up on sleep, though, as a hundred things clamour for his attention even before he gets to school the next day. Thankfully, there is no sign of Ayuzawa, not that he has time to worry her. He is still kicking himself for asking for her number so awkwardly, and now she might think he has a crush on her. He is also neck-deep in his student council duties, and today is one of the more hectic days.

The day flies past, and it is nearly evening by the time Takumi wraps up the meeting. He heads straight to work, and by the time he gets home, he is so exhausted, that he cannot even get the energy for dinner. Instead, he heads straight to bed, setting an alarm for three in the morning so he can do his homework and advanced reading.

When the alarm goes off, Takumi cannot force his eyes open, so he slips on his trainers and hoodie, and goes for a run, just to get the blood flowing. Before he knows it, he is standing at the foot of Ayuzawa's building, looking up. The lights of her apartment are on. A smile crosses Takumi's face, though he isn't aware of it. She must be a workaholic like him. Shaking his head to clear it, he heads back home to start his day.

Today is even crazier than the previous day, with all sorts of disruptions and problems popping up. He helms an emergency meeting of the student council, because of the upcoming school festival. He can see how stressed out the committee heads are, and decides not to bring up the sponsorship issue. It's something he can handle himself, but there is no use getting their hopes up until the money is actually in hand. Besides, this early in the planning stage, the emotions are already running high. There is no point adding fuel to the fire by telling them there is a lot less money to work with. The club presidents also have a meeting, one which he must preside over.

By seven, his head is pounding and his brain is fried, but Takumi has to leave for work. The thought of calling in sick doesn't even occur to him. While slipping on his outdoor shoes, he runs into the Vice Principal, who reminds him that the list of sponsors is still outstanding, and that if he does not deliver what he committed to, the festival will be ruined. Perfect. More pressure, just what he needed. With a last bow to the vice-principal, he heads out.

The trains are overcrowded, and the skies look ominous. Still, Takumi is looking forward to work, just because he can forget about the student council issues looming over his head. The thought occurs to him, that maybe Satsumi would be interested in donating something for the school festival, but then it would bring his work and his school life into an uncomfortable proximity. No, better to keep them separate, he decides firmly. It's bad enough that Ayuzawa and the three girls know he works there.

The cafe is a few blocks from the train station, in a trendy part of town, famous for boutique hotels and restaurants. He notices a bunch of photographers blocking the sidewalk ahead of him, waiting for an event of some sort. "What's going on?" he asks one of them, craning his neck to see what the commotion is about.

"It's a fundraiser for the Cancer Research Institute. Only the richest people are invited," the man beside him replies, adjusting his camera. Great. It looks like he'll have to cross the street to get around this crowd. It starts to rain as he finally fights his way through the throng, to the edge of the curb. A limousine pulls up in front of him, blocking the pedestrian crossing. His patience hangs on by a thin, frayed thread as the doors open and the lightbulbs start flashing.

A tall, blond boy, close to his own age, descends from the limousine, clad in a tuxedo that probably cost more than Takumi's annual tuition at Seika. He is not a fashion hound, but even he can tell, at three feet away, that the boy's suit quietly screams of money, with the way the fabric hugs his shoulders and emphasizes his body. The boy has a face that was bred to grace magazine covers, and an expression of careless boredom that only the truly rich seem to have. He meets Takumi's eyes for a moment, and dismisses him instantly, holding a hand back to assist his date in alighting from the car. Takumi mentally shrugs. The sooner they leave, the better.

A head of glossy black hair emerges from the car, followed by creamy shoulders. Takumi isn't even looking, he just wants to cross the street as soon as they are done, since he is running late. The photographers go crazy behind him, but for some reason, a frisson of awareness runs down his back. Turning his head again, he sees the blond boy's date from behind. She is wearing a black lace gown, probably from a designer whose name he can't pronounce. It hugs her like a second skin, exposing her shoulders and part of her back, falling to her ankles. Her hair is down, a sheet of black onyx, tamed only by a glittering pin. He cannot see her face, but is compelled to look, anyway. Takumi has never been one for idols or actresses or pop-stars, but for the first time in his life, he can understand the obsession.

The blond boy wraps a possessive arm around her waist, pulling her close. Of course he would. Takumi would do the same, in his position. Still, he is confused by his own urge to rip the other boy's hand off her. Her whole body stiffens at the contact. Takumi is probably the only person who can see it, since he is standing behind them. She does not put up a fight, her body leaning away from the boy who has a firm grip on her. "It's none of your business," he tells himself, fighting the need to rescue her. She is just a girl, after all, here by her own choice. If she really was unwilling, well, she had a crowd full of witnesses- As if she can hear him, she turns to him, gold eyes crashing into his, and the world goes still.

"Ayuzawa," he breathes, watching her eyes widen. If he thought the back of her was stunning, her face defies description. She must be wearing makeup, or something. Girls do that, right? Whatever she's done, her eyes are larger, her cheeks pinker, but for the life of him, his eyes are glued to the sinfully red lips that are parted in shock. This makes it official; Ayuzawa is out of his league.

The blond boy yanks her up against him, breaking their contact. She glances over her shoulder at Takumi, a bland smile on her face again, though her eyes tell him otherwise, still locked on his. It starts to rain, of course. Takumi pulls up the collar of his school jacket, and crosses the street, walking away from her this time.

He is strangely disappointed, though he knows that he should have expected something like this. In his experience, women are really never satisfied. Why did he ever think Ayuzawa would be different? She and that boy had seemed like a matched set of dolls, both perfect, gleaming with good breeding and class. It was a stroke of good fortune that he hadn't kissed her two nights ago. She must have been slumming it with him, and she practically ran away from him. He sighs, running faster. So she has a boyfriend, and a rich one, at that. It is a good reminder for him, to know his place. In fact, he is only playing at being a butler, when people like them probably have real butlers.

The back alley is deserted when he reaches it. Once he enters the back door, he is greeted by a grinning Satsuki. "Perfect, you're here!" the owner greets him, escorting him to the changing room. "It's a little bit last minute, but today, we're doing a samurai themed event."

Takumi sighs. Well, it could be worse.

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The Butler Cafe is crowded with regulars and newcomers, thanks to the samurai event. Hotaka and Subaru escort the last customers out, while Takumi finishes wiping down the tables. "Hey, good job tonight, kid," Subaru chuckles, patting him on the back. "You should think about asking Eiji about the modeling thing. I think you'd be a great model."

Just the idea of so many girls' eyes on him sends a chill down his spine. Takumi shakes his head. "No, thanks," he mutters, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn stain on the table. His hands are already full with school and work.

The others head to the back to close the sales and put away the trays. Takumi isn't feeling particularly sociable, so he opts to stay in the main shop area, placing the chairs over the tables. Behind him, the door bells jangle.

"I'm sorry, my lady, but we are…," his voice trails off when he comes face to face with Ayuzawa. "Closed. We are closed. You have to go." Did they not lock the door? His eyes roam over Ayuzawa's face, scrubbed pink and now makeup-free. She is in jeans and the same hoodie from the previous visits, and the only trace of the glamour girl from earlier tonight is the pin in her hair, taunting him with flashes of light. Her hair is pulled into a messy knot, but it gleams darkly still, as if it was liquid.

His eyes fall on the clock above the door. It is past midnight, far too late for a high school girl to be out on a school night. Squashing his concern, he points to the door. "Ayuzawa, we're closed."

"I came to talk to you, President," she states, raising her eyes to his. It should be a cause for concern, that lately, every time she looks him in the eye, it is like a punch to his gut.

Duty wars with hostility in his chest. However, he is still the student council president, and female or no, she is still a student. "What about?" he asks wearily, crossing his arms.

"About earlier tonight," Ayuzawa tells him, looking hesitant.

"That's none of my business, Ayuzawa," Takumi points out snidely. "If it is school-related, then I'd be willing to talk to you about it. But whatever you do with your own life, on your own time, that's on you." He remembers the way the other man had held her, his hand slipping around her waist as if he owned her, as if he had done this before, countless times. He also remembers the way she had stiffened up, her body language screaming no.

"Are you in trouble?" He kicks himself as soon as the words are out of his mouth, seeing the light go out of her eyes.

A cynical smile crosses her face. "Trouble's my middle name, President," she quips, tossing something at him. "Goodnight, I'm heading back." She is gone before he can stop her, running out into the dark night.

He looks at the item in his hands. It is a folding umbrella, with a note tucked into the tag. " _It was raining and you didn't have an umbrella - MA._ " Beside her signed initials is a phone number.

"Idiot," Takumi mutters, tracing the letters with his fingertip. "Silly, idiotic Ayuzawa."

.

* * *

.

Later, on the train, he stares at his phone, trying to decide whether or not he should text her. He puts his phone away a few times, only to find himself looking at her contact number again minutes later. Finally, he decides to bite the bullet and go for it. After all, she did him a favour by lending him an umbrella. "Were you able to get home safely?" he types, followed by a second message, "This is Usui, by the way."

She replies instantly. "Yes. Goodnight." A heart winks at him at the end of the message. Caught off guard, he cannot stop the grin that spreads across his face. This girl is a conundrum. Putting his phone away, he gazes out the window, watching the city fly by.

That night, as he lays in bed, Takumi is distracted. Normally, a day like today would have him asleep before his head hits the pillow, but he can't help thinking about Ayuzawa. She is a puzzle he wants to unlock, and it irritates him.

Fact: She is the queen of Seika, a top student and obviously a workaholic. Violin, aikido, perfect grades, there is nothing she can't do.

Fact: She is beautiful, and there is no limit to her popularity. In fact, not a day goes by where she doesn't get propositioned. She's not even the type who slathers makeup on, though her scent does drive him mad.

Fact: She lives alone, in a penthouse at the top of a fancy condominium, that is mostly empty. She does not live with her parents.

Fact: She goes to a low-end school, though she has access to money. What is she doing in Seika High, then? There are far better, more exclusive schools in their area. As much as he loves his school, Takumi knows they are closer to the bottom of the heap, though he is doing his best to change that.

Fact: The man- no, he was more of a boy, had grabbed her like she was a toy, as he had owned her. She stepped out of the limousine as if she was used to such treatment.

Conclusion: Is Ayuzawa a rich man's mistress?

Takumi's eyes widen as he bolts up in his bed. If she was a kept woman, that would explain why she was so aloof with all the boys who had shown an interest in her. She is only 16, the same age as he is, but it would explain too why she isn't with her parents, why she seems so unafraid and cynical and alone. Alone… She must be incredibly lonely. Wait, what is he thinking? If she was a mistress, and all signs point to this being the truth, then that would make her no better than his mother. Takumi flops back to his pillows, glaring at the crack in the ceiling. Girls, especially pretty ones like them, are born with expert manipulative skills. She must want something from him, then. That explains why she is so nice to him. Anger is a familiar feeling, one that he welcomes, because this, he understands.

Well, it is a good thing he did not become involved with her more than he already has. After he returns her umbrella tomorrow, he will cut off ties. His mind made up, Takumi tries to sleep, but the thought of the Queen of Seika being a kept woman is too disturbing, even for him. He remembers the way she had bowed to the three senior girls, asking them to keep quiet about his secret. Why is she so kind to him? The sky is lightening when he finally drops off.

.

* * *

.

He first catches sight of Ayuzawa in the morning assembly, as the school sings the national anthem. She seems her normal, bored self, ignoring the longing stares of the boys around her. Her hair is still straightened, falling almost to her elbows, the top half tied with a bow that tempts him to tug it off. Takumi focuses on the flag, ignoring this urge. If she is some rich man's plaything, then every inch of her is calculated to seduce. She is probably a walking pheromone machine, and he would do well to remember that. Catching his eye, she winks. He immediately averts his gaze.

He tries his best to focus in class, but the teacher is going over topics he has already studied, and the lack of sleep catches up with him. For the first time in his life, Takumi Usui is sent to the infirmary for falling asleep in class. Trudging through the hallways, he nods at frightened freshmen passing by, who scamper away from his sight.

The school doctor gives him a cursory check-up, then herds him into a bed, drawing the curtains around him. Curling up in the white sheets, he is almost asleep when the vice-principal barges in. "Is Usui in here? Is he trying to get out of his meeting with me? That boy… we should never have allowed boys into our perfect school. I don't know why we couldn't just stay all-girls."

The doctor stands her ground, refusing him entry. "He really is exhausted. He could barely stand when he got here. Do you want him to collapse? Then we'd have to send him to the hospital, vice-principal," she snaps.

"Well, it wasn't my idea to try to raise extra money for the cultural festival, it was his. And I told the principal about it, and now the principal is all excited. If he doesn't follow through, it's my neck on the line," the vice-principal shoots back. "So as soon as he can stand, send him to my office."

Takumi sighs, throwing the blanket over his head. The doctor walks off, and the infirmary is quiet again. He hears the curtain separating his area from the next, and someone shuffling up to his bedside. Pretending to sleep, he goes still. Someone tugs the blanket down, revealing his face.

Cool fingers push his hair away from his face, and a familiar scent teases his nose.

"President, have you gotten yourself in trouble?" she murmurs in a low voice, her fingertips tracing his eyebrows. He does not answer, still caught up in his pretense, and wound up by her touch. She follows the straight line of his nose, the curve of his jaw, a little too comfortable with touching him. Her fingers hover over his lips, for a moment. He can feel the warmth of her skin, just out of reach, and he wants her to do it, to put him out of his misery. She draws away, leaving him bereft.

He feels her settle on the side of his mattress. What is she doing? Still, he feigns sleep, waiting with bated breath. Did she just get into bed with him? She is silent, but he can hear her rustling, and he can feel her warmth. Her fingers sift through his hair now, rubbing his head soothingly. "Go to sleep," she whispers, "I'll keep watch." To Takumi's surprise, he does just that, drifting off into a deep and dreamless sleep.

.

* * *

.

When the doctor wakes him, hours later, he is alone in his bed and a little disoriented. He has not slept this well in, well, years, really. "Okay, Usui, get out," the doctor says cheerfully, "And the Vice Principal is out for your blood, so try to avoid him for now."

Bowing to her, he leaves. The school day is over, and the classrooms are mostly empty. He picks up his things, nodding absently to schoolmates as he goes to the student council office. It is a hive of activity, but all the other officers come to a stop when he appears in the doorway.

"President, are you okay?" Kiyomasa asks, tugging at her braids. She is the head of the Discipline Committee, and not one for showing much emotion, so this is uncharacteristic of her.

"Yes, we heard you were in the infirmary!" Hagimoto, the Broadcasting Committee representative, chimes in.

He nods, and smiles weakly. "Yes, I wasn't feeling too well. I'm okay now. Just needed to rest up a little bit."

The two quietest members of the council speak up. "President, you're always overworking yourself," Utsumi, the cleaning rep, squeaks out, her cheeks turning a bright pink.

"It's true," Council Accountant Sawa agrees, hiding behind the accounting notebook. "You shouldn't just take on all the problems, just because you are president."

"Sir, this feels like a harem manga," Yukimura whispers into his ear. Takumi scowls at his VP, but is touched by the show of support by the rest of the council. He takes in all their concerned expressions, and gives back a reassuring smile.

"I'm glad to be part of such a dedicated group of people," he announces. "We've all got the same goals here, and I know that you want, as much as I do, to make Seika High, the best possible high school in the district. Thank you, everyone."

"Oh, and for the sponsorship issue…," Kosugi, the secretary, pushes back her glasses. "We talked to students whose parents own businesses about potential donations, and we also received a list from Misaki Ayuzawa of 2 - 1 of people to contact about partnerships and advertising. Right now, we've already got more than 30% of the current budget in pledges, on top of what the school has given us, and we are expecting more tomorrow. Thank you for your detailed plan, and your hard work, President." She finishes her report with a bow.

"Ayuzawa?" Takumi's brows knit together.

"Oh, yes," Hagimoto confirms happily. "She was the one who told us you were in the infirmary, and about the whole sponsorship problem you were having with the vice-principal. You can rely on us, President!"

"She really is pretty," Utsumi sighs. "And smart and nice. Are you close friends?"

"Yes, Ayuzawa told us she would get in touch with her connections, and gave the list of students whose families owned businesses," Yukimura adds. "In fact, you just missed her. Didn't you pass her in the hallway? Well, she said she would drop by tomorrow and let us know how her canvassing went. Isn't that nice of her? We had no idea you were going through all of that, President."

Since when did the student council become part of the Ayuzawa fan club, Takumi wonders sourly. And what would they say if they found out the saintly Misaki Ayuzawa was actually a kept woman, a glorified whore? "What direction did she go?" Takumi asks, fishing her umbrella from his school bag.

"Try her classroom?" Yukimura replies. It is the end of the day, after all.

"I'll be right back," he tells the council, sprinting towards section 1. Pushing through the throngs of students heading down the hallway to the main exit, he pokes his head into her classroom. "Is Ayuzawa here?" he asks the cleaning students, who cower at the sight of the sweaty and out-of-breath Demon President.

"N-no, sir, but her b-bag is still here," one of the girls points out.

"Does she have a club?" he asks, glancing around.

"Aikido, I think," a boy replies helpfully, "But they aren't meeting today. I saw her headed upstairs. Maybe she's getting another confession again?"

Thanking her, Takumi turns around, and stomps down the hallway, fishing his cellphone out of his pocket. He has her cell number, why didn't he remember this earlier? He dials her number, and listens to it ring a few times. She doesn't answer. He climbs the stairs to the rooftop, dialing again. Nothing.

Frowning, he pushes the door open to the rooftop. Is she breaking some poor kid's heart again?

"Ayuzawa?" Takumi calls, looking around. Nobody in his direct line of sight. He frowns, holding the phone up to his ear again. It rings, but this time he can hear a phone ring as well. Pulling his cell phone away from his ear, he follows the melody, around the corner, to the back of the wall.

There, fast asleep against the wall, is the girl he has been searching for. His heart stutters at the sight of her. Can she really be a rich man's plaything? She looks so young and innocent as she sleeps, her normally perfect hair secured by a pencil at the top of her head. Her knees are drawn up to her chin, and a bandage decorates her ankle. Was this why she was in the infirmary earlier?

He sits on the ground beside her, looking straight ahead. Her chosen spot is an excellent place to view the sunset, and the sun sets the sky ablaze in shades of red and gold. Ayuzawa has good taste, after all, he thinks, gazing at her bent head and flushed cheeks.

"Idiot Ayuzawa," he mutters, "What are you doing, worrying about me? You should think of yourself first." Her head tips forward. With a sigh, he pulls her close, so her head is on his shoulder. The scent of her shampoo is familiar now. He breathes it in, closing his eyes and smiling at the sound of her slight snores. His chest hurts now, because of an odd warmth that is spreading across his body. Her phone beeps again, breaking the silence.

Suddenly he hears the doors to the roof open, and panic grips him. They cannot be discovered together like this. He arranges her back against the wall, leaving the umbrella beside her, and quickly makes his way around the corner to scare off whoever is there. She deserves a few more minutes of rest, he thinks. This much, he can do for her.

He comes face-to-face with the blond boy from last night, who is now sporting the dress-whites of Miyabigaoka High. "Excuse me," the intruder says, casting his eyes around the surrounding area. "Have you seen Misaki?"

.

.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thank you so much, guys, for your patience. Here you have it, Chapter 5. I just wanted to put a call out, I really need someone to talk to about Maid Sama and to discuss the direction that Polar Opposites will be going. I've got the next chapter written out, and I'll post it in a week so you guys don't have to wait too long, but I really need someone to bounce ideas with who has read the maid sama manga and can help me out by giving feedback. Bonus would be they would be able to read the chapters before everyone else. I figured it wouldn't hurt to post this here. I really want to write the best story for you guys. Please PM me. Cheers 3

* * *

.

V.

.

* * *

.

This is their second meeting, and Takumi hates him already. "You are not allowed to be here," he tells the blond boy, scowling. "You aren't even from this school."

The other boy breaks into a winsome smile. "Oh, let me introduce myself. I am Tora Igarashi, student council president of Miyabigaoka High School. I'm here to see Misaki Ayuzawa, my- who did you say you were?" Even his voice sounds cultured. Takumi keeps a blank face, drilled into him by years of training.

"I'm Takumi Usui, student council president of Seika High School. Do you have any business with our student? You are not allowed to be wandering the grounds by yourself, since you are an outsider. You understand, of course, as you are a president yourself," Takumi responds. He does not like the way the other boy eyes him, his gaze roaming over him as if he were an odd specimen in a museum.

If anything, the other boy's smile widens. "Did you say you were Usui? Curiouser and curiouser." He approaches, sizing him up carefully, studying him from every angle. Okay, now this is too weird. "I've heard so much about you, from my darling fiancee," Igarashi says cheerfully. Fiancee? Usui's brows knit into a frown. "Speaking of fiancee, Misaki told me she was on the roof. Have you seen her?"

Takumi blinks at him, unable to comprehend anything past the word fiancee. Ayuzawa is engaged? ' _Better than being a mistress_ ,' a sly voice whispers in his mind. But engaged? To this guy?

"Tora?" From behind him, Ayuzawa's voice comes out weakly. "Are you here yet?" He must have interrupted their arranged tryst. Takumi feels sick to his stomach.

"Right, she's over there." The other guy whacks him on the back cheerfully, jogging around the corner. He should leave, Takumi tells himself. He should leave right now, before he hears or sees anything. But there must be a masochistic part of him that nails his feet to the ground, because he cannot move, not a step.

Igarashi appears, carrying Ayuzawa in his arms. "Put me down, I can walk," she tells him, pouting. Unlike the awkwardness of last night, she seems mighty comfortable being carried like a princess in this boy's arms. Takumi's hands clench into fists.

"Silly girl, you hurt yourself. Stop being a hero," he scolds her, shifting her higher. Panicking, she throws her arms around his neck. The bastard laughs affectionately, swinging her around.

"Don't, Tora, people might see," Ayuzawa hisses, blushing to her ears. "And your uniform will get dirty." The umbrella Takumi returned dangles from her wrist.

He cannot seem to get his lungs working, staring at the happy couple in front of him. Has he ever been this mistaken before, in his life? They are on first name basis, for crying out loud. She finally notices him, and falls silent, shoving at the other boy's shoulders. Igarashi sighs, a theatrical, put-upon sigh, and sets her gently on her feet, keeping a proprietary arm around her waist. "President," she whispers, averting her eyes.

"I- uh, the roof is off limits, Ayuzawa. You aren't allowed to be here. Please leave." Takumi doesn't know where his anger is coming from, really. He should be embarrassed by the conclusion he jumped to, he knows he owes her a mental apology. But seeing her carted off like a sack of potatoes… she cannot even meet his eyes, as if she is guilty of some crime.

"So, President Usui, can you show us to the exit?" Igarashi smirks, a smile with too many dazzling teeth. His eyes are gold, too, a paler shade than Ayuzawa's. How cute. Aren't they a matched set.

With a curt nod, he stalks to the door, wrenching it open. She hobbles there, assisted by her white knight, head bowed. It is infuriating, seeing her so subservient, so obedient to this stranger who touches her like he owns her. "You can't walk down the stairs, Misa," the other boy tells her, scooping her up again.

"So you are going to parade her through the school, then, in your arms?" Takumi retorts before he can stop himself. Both their heads turn to him, as if they had forgotten he was there.

"It isn't my school," Igarashi shrugs, taking the steps down.

"But it is hers. Do you want to humiliate her?" he snaps, trailing after them. Ayuzawa meets his eyes from over the other boy's shoulder, and the sadness in them gives him pause.

"On the contrary, " Igarashi grins, a smile with too many teeth and not enough emotion. "It should increase her reputation, being seen in the arms of someone like me. Not that she needs it; our Misa is wonderful enough on her own, and I would like to see the person who tries to put her down."

They reach the landing on the ground floor. Takumi is angry with himself for following them, but it might help keep Ayuzawa's reputation intact if he was present. Sure enough, the crowds part for their odd little procession. He can feel the eyes of the entire student body on them, and the buzz of the whispers is deafening.

 _"That's the queen! Is she okay?"_

 _"That's a Miyabigaoka uniform! Who is that?"_

 _"Did the Demon President hurt her?"_

"Miss Ayuzawa, are you okay?" A few freshmen run up to her, concern on their faces. Takumi glares at them, but they ignore him, clustering around her. "It's all our fault, we should have been looking where we were going earlier."

The smile she bestows upon them is charming and calm. "Don't worry, I just twisted my ankle when I fell down the steps. I should be okay tomorrow, no lasting damage."

"I'll take you straight to our hospital," Igarashi announces, silencing them all. "The specialists have already been called and are expecting us." Could he be any more obnoxious? They finally reach the gate.

In the distance, Takumi spots the approaching limousine. "I'm surprised you didn't call a helicopter," he mutters, sarcasm lacing his tone.

The other boy laughs, delighted by his comment. "Well, I would have, but I figured that your school might not have a landing pad, and you might object to us landing in the quad. For future reference, President Usui, where can I land a helicopter on your campus? It's pretty cozy and cute, with all the trees. I don't see a large enough space to land one."

"Tora," Ayuzawa warns, her eyes locking onto Igarashi's. "Don't be obnoxious."

The limo pulls up to the curb, and two suit-wearing men with earpieces step out. "Master Tora, we have cleared a way to the hospital," one of them announces, opening the backseat door.

"Wait, what about your things?" Takumi interjects, wondering if he should object to the abduction of Ayuzawa.

"Don't worry, my bodyguard is going to get it. Did you want to come along to the hospital, President?" The other suited man is already striding towards the school building, ignoring the stares of the students gathered at the entrance. "It's great that you're so worried about the welfare of your constituents. Thank you so much for taking care of my Misa." The boy brings the back of her fingers to his lips, causing a ripple of murmurs in the audience.

"How does your bodyguard know where Ayuzawa's classroom is?" Takumi grumbles, crossing his arms.

"GPS. We tagged her bag, just in case she gets kidnapped," Tora grins at Ayuzawa, who remains stone-faced. She looks unsurprised by this revelation. Takumi doesn't know if he should be outraged on her behalf, he doesn't even know what to say to this. The bodyguard returns, bearing her bag. "Alright, President. Nice to meet you."

"Right. I'm heading back now. Ayuzawa, Igarashi, good day," Takumi mutters, turning on his heel and marching away. The crowd parts for him, dead silent now. Behind him, he hears the purr of the limo receding as it gets further and further away. Ayuzawa is not his business, he tells himself. But at least she's not Igarashi's mistress.

.

* * *

.

Two hours later he is standing in front of the mirror at the changing room of the Butler Cafe, glaring at his reflection.

"You look fantastic, Takumi," Subaru beams, straightening the shoulders of the police costume. "You really could pass for a police officer, you know. Blue is definitely your colour. But then, all the costumes look great on you. Don't forget to talk about the contest." It is all Takumi can do not to snap at him. His mood hasn't improved much since he left school.

"Nobody could pass the most difficult level of quiz," Satsumi muses, checking out the questions. "Are you sure about this, Takumi? I mean, the point of having a promotional quiz is so that people actually win them. I don't know if anyone could win this."

"Well, that's only the hard level," Takumi points out. "The easy level is fairly simple. 20 questions, all food prizes. It makes sense that the difficult level is a hundred questions, since you promised a photo and a day with one of the butlers."

"But… Someone has to win it, after all," Satsumi argues, wrinkling his nose as they walk towards the customer area. "Remember to stay in character, boys." He himself is in an admiral's costume, being the oldest butler.

"Aye aye, Captain," Subaru salutes playfully, after knotting the scarf on his sailor uniform.

The bell on the door jangles; all of them bow. Takumi groans inwardly as the first customers of the night appear; it is the three senior girls from his high school. They have been here almost daily, requesting him specifically.

"Good evening, my ladies," he mutters. Satsumi clears his throat meaningfully. Takumi sends him a pleading look. His boss gives him a "go on" look. "Your beauty is a crime against my heart," he mumbles. The three girls burst into giggles as he seats them at a corner table.

"Pres- I mean, Taku," the bleached-haired one snorts. "Do you remember our names?"

Good Lord, are they going to make him do this? Think of the paycheck, he reminds himself. Think of the money.

"Of course, ma'am. You are Miss Riku, your smile is arresting," Takumi tries not to roll his eyes at the lines that Satsumi gave him. The faux blond grins, eyeing his butt through the dress pants. "And you are Miss Izumi," he indicates the toughest looking one, "A flower who cannot be bound by any laws." Oh God. Shoot him now, he pleads mentally as the boss beams.

The girl turns a bright pink, hiding bashfully behind a menu. Huh. Really? "And Miss Naomi, I gotta keep an eye on you or else you'll steal all the hearts in the area." Nose-ring grins and flashes him a thumbs-up. Are girls really this simple? They do know he isn't serious, right?

"Don't forget to sign up for our latest promotion: The Butler Supreme Quiz!" Subaru announces over his shoulder, winking at them. "First prize is a photo and a day of personalized service with a butler of your choice. We announce the winners on Friday."

Judging by the way the three are eyeing him, Takumi is suddenly glad that he made the quiz extra difficult.

Naomi speaks up later, as he is serving their food. "Hey Taku, what was up with that scene earlier? Some jerk in a Miyabigaoka uniform carted off the queen into a limousine." Right. The three girls think he and Ayuzawa are dating.

"Ah, yes, he's an old family friend of Ayuzawa's," Takumi replies, scowling at the thought.

"Wait, you still call her Ayuzawa?" Riku snickers, nose ring flashing in the light. "Formal much? Are you really dating?"

"Of course they are, silly," Izumi interjects, whacking her friend on the head as she delivers an apologetic smile to Takumi. "Sorry, President, she's a little slow. But I guess they have to keep appearances up, so nobody thinks they are dating. It's romantic, really, a forbidden romance like that. But President, what would happen if you and Ayuzawa announced your relationship? I mean, I can see the male population of the school turning on you, but they'll get used to it eventually, right?"

It's none of their damn business, he thinks, trying not to slam the plates on the table. Takumi fixes a smile on his face, ignoring her question. "Will there be anything else, my ladies?"

"Well, I guess if you were trying to distract people from your relationship, that stunt this afternoon definitely worked. But if it were me, and that hottie carried me across the school in his arms to a limo, I don't know if I could remember I was in a relationship. I'd be all over him as soon as the door closed," Riku giggles.

"I have to say," Naomi adds, "Weren't those two ridiculously good-looking? Like a matched pair, almost. I thought nobody could match the beauty of our queen, but that boy, wow." Takumi bows stiffly, and heads to the back room, his mood souring even further. It's true, Igarashi and Ayuzawa look like they were made for each other, even in evening wear. But that's none of his business, Takumi repeats to himself. None of his business.

.

The rest of the evening goes by in a rush. The costume events are always popular with the clientele, and he is thankful that Ayuzawa did not show up today. Making sure to lock the door this time, Takumi cleans out the customer area before heading back.

"Ah, good job tonight, Takumi!" Satsuki greets him in the kitchen, placing a few takeout boxes on the counter. "Here, for your delivery."

"Since when do we deliver?" Takumi asks warily, eyeing the boxes.

"Well, the other two are for your family, so you can take that home. The third is for your girlfriend. She called and placed an order. Even insisted on paying for all of it with a credit card, though I told her we would just deduct it from your paycheck. She tipped pretty well too," the older man grins. "Though you should have told me she got hurt. I would have let you leave earlier to be with her, you really should take care of your girl. She's so pretty, I wouldn't be surprised if someone tried to snatch her from under your nose. Why, if I were twenty years younger…."

Takumi grabs the packages, trudging to the locker room. Slamming the door to his locker open, he changes out of the police uniform, and into his regular clothes. What the hell is Ayuzawa trying to pull? She is engaged to Smarmypants, so why is she still tormenting him?

He fumes the entire way to the train, stomping down the street until he finds himself at the lobby of her building. Taking a moment to calm down, he inhales deeply. This is a food delivery. She is a paying customer. That is all. He is Taku the Butler, nothing more. Whipping out his phone, he sends her a text. " _I'm downstairs with your food order._ "

The elevator doors open a few minutes later, and she emerges, supported by one crutch, still dressed in her school uniform. She opens the lobby doors, avoiding his gaze. Taking the bag from his hand wordlessly, she maneuvers herself, narrowly missing the door by inches.

She really does look pretty pathetic, all injured like this. With a loud sigh, he marches up and snatches the bag out of her hands. "Come on, I'll set up the food for you upstairs," Takumi mutters, assisting her over the steps. He owes her this much, for her help, and he hates owing anyone.

Ayuzawa is more subdued, acting like a kicked puppy around him. The girl who winked at him this morning is gone, and in her place is a sad-eyed waif. "Keys," he demands, holding out a hand. She fishes it out of her pocket and hands it to him, adjusting her balance on the crutch.

Once Takumi has the door open, he waits for her to enter. As she passes him, he notes the dark circles under her eyes, the pallor of her cheeks, and the slump of her normally ramrod-straight back. Following her to the dining room, he pulls out a chair for her. "Sit down."

Miracle of miracles, she obeys, without a fight, leaning her crutch against the chair beside her. He unpacks her food - an omurice, he notes- and digs around the cupboards for dishes and utensils. The drawers are mostly empty, except for a big bag of disposable chopsticks, and a box of plastic forks. "Do you even live here?" Takumi mutters in frustration, remembering now that Satsumi must have packed some cutlery with the food.

Ayuzawa does not reply. When he turns to put the chopsticks in her hand, she averts her head, hiding her face from him. Is every meal like this for her? Nobody is home, and the silence is too loud. This can't be right. Dragging a chair out from across her, he unpacks a second meal, sending a mental apology to his brother. After a few beats, she starts to eat, her head bowed.

"Wait," he scolds, clasping his palms together. "We have to say thanks for the meal." Abruptly, she follows, pushing her own hands together. They chorus their grace, and the silence falls again, less heavily than before.

"Great, now we can eat," Takumi tells her, retrieving his chopsticks. He is not a chatterbox, but for some reason he wants to start blathering about his day, anything to fill this painful silence. He doesn't even know why he forced his way into this situation; she seems broken, somehow, and it bothers him. "So you fell down the stairs at school?" he says around a bite of food, indicating her crutch with his chopsticks.

"Yes," she replies, a slight furrow of her eyebrows the only indication of her emotions. "The great and graceful Misaki Ayuzawa fell down the stairs and sprained her ankle. It does happen sometimes, President."

"I'm glad," he snorts. "Reminds us all that you're human, and not the perfect queen everyone thinks you are."

"Oh, I'm human, alright," Ayuzawa raises her voice, meeting his eyes for the first time. "If you stab me, I'll bleed. I'm nothing more than a high schooler, nothing more than a girl, nobody special." Takumi is surprised to see tears in her eyes. Turning her head away, she dashes the back of her hand against her cheek quickly, wiping away all traces of the tear. He can see her lower lip wobble, and it is strangely endearing, how she looks like a lost little girl. Takumi cannot look away, mesmerized. He has dealt with her aftermath, with all the boys whose hearts she broke, but seeing her like this, the untouchable Queen of Seika, makes him want to gather her in his arms and comfort her.

"Why did you help me?" he asks instead, shoveling rice into his mouth. "With the student council fundraising?" He will not mention how she had held him in the infirmary until he had fallen asleep, that he had not felt so safe or peaceful in years, that even now, he can still feel her fingers stroking his hair.

Ayuzawa pauses. He uses that time to take a sip of water, to give her a chance to pull herself together. He pretends not to hear the slight sniffle, not to notice the furtive brush of her fingertips over her eyelashes. This much, Takumi understands. "You needed help, didn't you? And I know people who could help, so it's not a big deal. Also, I don't like the vice principal." The smirk she gives him is genuine. "So, two birds with one stone. But I'll get back to you tomorrow. I'm still waiting to hear back from some of the people I know."

"Like Igarashi?" The question escapes him and now Takumi wants to hit himself. She might think he is jealous. She remains silent, though, as if choosing her words. He continues anyway. "It isn't right to ask for his help. He has his own school to worry about. This is Seika business, after all."

"No, President," Ayuzawa says stiffly, her chin regaining its former stubbornness. Good girl. "I didn't ask Tora. Like I said, I'll give you a list tomorrow." That should be the end of it. He should stop now.

"So when is the wedding?" Seriously, Takumi must be more tired than he thought. Why are all these words tumbling out? "I didn't know you were engaged. To be honest, I had thought you were his mistress, when I saw you on the red carpet yesterday."

The corner of her mouth goes up. "Really? You thought I was a whore?" She bursts out laughing now, so hard that tears leak out from the corner of her eyes. "Tora's mistress huh? He'd get a kick out of that one." This girl has no shame. Takumi essentially called her a prostitute, and here she is laughing her head off. Now he is embarrassed and annoyed for even bringing it up. "Oh, I really needed a laugh. Thanks, President."

He rises to his feet, clearing his own dishes. "It is getting late, and we still have school tomorrow. Will you be alright by yourself?"

A mischievous spark enters her eyes. Takumi braces himself. "Why, President, I appreciate the concern. Maybe I'll need someone to wash my back when I take a bath, and help me in and out of the tub," she jokes, howling with laughter when he narrows his eyes. "I'm joking, I'm joking."

"I'm leaving," Takumi tells her sternly. "Don't get up to see me out. I know the way."

"Wait," she protests. "Let me at least get you a taxi home."

He cuts her an icy glare. "Goodnight, Ayuzawa." Making his way to the front door, he hears her hobbling behind him. Whirling around, he catches her limping towards him. "What did I just tell you?" Takumi snaps, reaching for her as she stumbles. To his surprise, she launches herself at him, hugging him tightly. He can actually feel her heart pounding against his, as she burrows her face into his shoulder.

"Thank you, President, for the food and the company. This is exactly what I needed," she murmurs, squeezing him one more time before she releases him with a shy smile. Stunned, he can only stare at her. His mind has gone completely blank, intoxicated by her scent and her warmth. Now he can understand why those poor idiots threatened to kill themselves over her. "You should go home, it's pretty late." It almost hurts when she breaks contact, the ghost of her touch still burning his skin. Her cheeks are bright pink as she gazes up at him, her hair covering her eyes.

"Ayuzawa, you idiot. Worry about yourself first." Unable to help himself, his hand tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. "Goodnight." Startled golden eyes crash into his. He withdraws his hand as if burned.

With that, he backs out the door, holding it closed until he hears the lock click into place. Then he heads home, trying to forget about this entire day. This is becoming a common theme in his dealings with the girl. She is engaged, he reminds himself. And way, way out of his league. It is getting harder and harder to put her out of his mind.

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	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Hello, and welcome to Chap 6. Big big big thank you to Boldnbright, who has some fantastic Maid Sama stories of her own, you should go read them! And also to my friend Sunny, who shoots down my preposterous hypotheses and keeps me sane. So here's a question: should Misa and Takumi have sex? It seems to me that there are many, many fics of Maid Sama that have them doing the deed. :D Would love to hear your opinions on those, as they would affect the future of this story. I know this is a sensitive topic for a lot of people, so if you aren't comfortable posting in a review, feel free to PM me.

Other plug: I just posted my original fic on Wattpad, called Picking Up the Pieces. It's about a guy who never told his childhood best friend how he truly felt about her, and he gets a second chance when they meet again, many years later. :D Not for minors, though. There are many many explicit scenes in that one. Also, if you are on wattpad, friend me! I'm also isharaine on there.

In the meantime, please enjoy chapter 6 and let me know what you think. Cheers!

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VI.

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True to Ayuzawa's promise, a list of donors, complete with signed pledges and contact information is delivered to the Student Council office the next day. Takumi wasn't there when she dropped it off, which was for the best. But Sawa and Kosugi, the Council Accountant and Secretary, are beside themselves with glee when he enters the room.

"President," Sawa chortles, handing him the papers. "We've tripled the school budget for the cultural festival. Ayuzawa really is the queen of Seika."

He stares at the stack of papers in his hand, his eyes growing larger as he skims over the figures. She achieved what he was only trying to wrap his mind around, and all in less than a day.

"You're lucky Ayuzawa never ran for Student Council President, eh?" Minako Goda, the head of the election committee, smirks at him. She never really did like him, but now her words carry a harsher sting than normal. Giggles echo across the room. Resentment burns in his chest, towards Goda, towards Ayuzawa, and towards all women right now.

"I'm going to meet with the vice principal," Takumi mutters, stomping out. It is much later when he sees the note affixed to the top of the pile, addressed to him. He comes to a full stop in the middle of the hallway, oblivious to the girls walking all around him.

Written tersely on an unassuming sheet of paper torn from a notebook, it says, " _As promised, President, no Tora. I'll collect my payment later. - M._ "

When he looks up again, he meets the vice principal's astonished gaze. "Sir?" Takumi asks, tucking the note in his pocket. "Is something the matter?"

The older man looks distinctly uncomfortable. "No, it's just that I have never seen you smile like that," he blurts out, mopping his shiny pate with a wadded up handkerchief. "No offense or anything, but has anyone ever told you have a pretty smile? You could pass for a girl. You should smile more."

Takumi stares at the older man. "Sir, are you sexually harassing me?"

"No, no, I-" The vice principal squirms under his direct gaze. "You're a boy, of course not!"

"So if I was a girl you would be?" The hallway around them goes still, as students gather to witness the exchange.

"That's not what I- Let's take this to my office," The vice principal growls, grabbing Takumi's upper arm and dragging him away from the eyes of the other students. He knows he should not have provoked the older man, but he is unrepentant.

After an hour of bearing the brunt of the vice principal's rage, an afternoon of surprise tests in Math, Chemistry and PE, two back-to-back meetings with the student council about their new budget, and thirty minutes overseeing the new library setup, by the time the end-of-day bell rings, Takumi is ready to fall over. At this point, he thinks sourly, maybe Ayuzawa should be the president. But though he does not see her all day, the girl occupies a large portion of his thoughts.

Thankfully, he has today off from work, so when he arrives home, he goes straight to bed, exhausted.

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The next day passes in a blur. But it is Friday, the last day before spring break. Even the students on the council are mentally distracted, and the last meeting of the day has them all sitting with eyes glazed over. An exasperated Takumi dismisses them. He has a shift tonight, so he gathers his things and heads to the train station, already running about half an hour late.

It is pouring when he exits the train station. Takumi dashes to work, his mood fouled even further when he gets splashed by a passing vehicle as he waits to cross the street at the same intersection where he almost kissed Ayuzawa. Talk about bad omens, he thinks, mentally thanking the drunk man who had interrupted him. If he had kissed her then… No. No. He shakes his head to clear it, staring at his hands.

Last night, he tucked her hair behind her ear, and it was not the first time. Is he just like Igarashi, unable to keep his hands to himself? Is he staking a claim, unconsciously? But she had hugged him first, and oh, it had been everything he had never thought he wanted.

 _Ayuzawa. Is. Engaged._ He has no business even thinking about her. What is she doing, flirting so easily with him? The light changes, finally, and Takumi starts across the street.

By the time he arrives at the Butler Cafe, he is now an hour late. "I'm so sorry, boss," he apologizes to Satsumi, rushing into the locker room to change into his police officer costume.

"Don't worry about it," Satsumi replies cheerfully. "You gave me lots of warning that you were running late. Besides, everyone is here to hear the results of the contest. We're fully staffed and then some."

"Wait, you mean someone solved it?" Takumi blurts out, buttoning the uniform shirt.

"Didn't you hear?" Hotaka grins, slapping him on the back. "Someone came in and solved the quiz in fifteen minutes. But there was a second person, too."

"What?" Takumi whirls around, though there is a sneaking suspicion in the pit of his stomach. "But that exam was extra hard. Even I couldn't solve it that quickly. Who was it?"

"You'll have to wait for the results, just like everyone else. Anyway, you're the last one here. I'll announce it in five minutes. It's a full house tonight, and there are a lot of clients who are standing because it is so full. Make sure everyone has a drink when I come out, ok?" Satsumi grins, shoving them both out the door.

Takumi stumbles slightly, surprised to see the cafe a lot dimmer than usual. The only sources of light are the candles on every table, and the tables themselves have been pushed to the side to make room for a small stage. He nods to the three senior girls, and then he feels it- an electric tingle down his spine. He turns, as if pulled by a magnet, to lock eyes with Ayuzawa. She isn't alone. A short boy is flirting with her, dressed in a trendy outfit that screams of money. Of course.

He runs a fingertip up her forearm, leaning in to whisper in her ear. Takumi has to admit that the boy is ridiculously cute, in a bishounen kind of way. That does not stop him from wanting to punch the kid in the face and drag him away from Ayuzawa.

Unaffected, she stares at Takumi, her gold eyes gleaming in the firelight. The boy follows her gaze, scowling at him. Then, he reaches over to tuck her hair behind her ear, the same exact move that Takumi makes. She catches his wrist before he can make contact, shaking her head to stop him. Pouting, the boy retracts his hand. The boy stares at him, then at Ayuzawa, speculation written across his face.

Takumi lowers his head, grabbing a tray and picking up empty glasses. He would be lying to himself if he thought he was unaffected by Ayuzawa. He can't quite understand why he is just like all the other boys, completely in thrall to that woman. Rationally, he knows he and she would never suit, and she is taken. Though, a voice whispers in his head, he has never seen her wear an engagement ring. He shushes it, forcing a smile on his face to greet the customers in his area. He can feel her gaze stabbing into his back.

A spotlight comes on, and the boy saunters to the microphone. A murmur ripples through the crowd. "Hello, ladies and gentlemen," he drawls in an unnaturally high-pitched voice. "Thank you so much for coming to our Cafe."

Takumi narrows his eyes. Wait a minute. Six months of inspecting girls at Seika has fine-tuned his senses and that boy is wearing makeup, he is sure of it. The boy has a delicate jaw, and plump lips, but the most telling thing is his lack of an Adam's apple. No, that boy is in fact, a girl.

"Is that the internet idol Aoi?" A regular client whispers loudly.

"Why, yes," the girl-dressed-as-a-boy onstage beams. Excited whispers break throughout the crowd.

Satsumi appears, grabbing the mic and pushing the youngster out of the spotlight. "Sorry, folks, and good evening. I'm Satsumi Hyodo, the owner of Butler Cafe, and I would like to thank you all for coming and participating in the contest." Wild applause greets his announcement. At a prearranged signal, all the butlers come onstage and stand in a line behind him, bowing deeply. The boss explains the mechanics of the contest, and gives prizes to the people who swept the easier portion of the quiz.

There is a strange anticipation in the air. Takumi's eyes meet Ayuzawa's again. She is wearing her usual poker face, nibbling on her lower lip. Is she nervous?

"I have to say, this was an unusually close contest. Two people almost got the grand prize, so we had to judge the winner based on time. Even then, it was close," Satsumi chuckles into the microphone.

Ayuzawa's phone lights up. She reads it quickly, and her eyebrows knit. She glances around her, as if searching for someone. Takumi frowns. There is something urgent about the way her eyes scan her surroundings.

"Both of them picked our youngest butler, Taku. A round of applause, please." Takumi squints into the spotlight as the cheers rise to a deafening pitch. Satsumi whacks him on the back and continues. "He designed the quiz himself, so it really is apt that they both picked him. But, because the race was so close, our first runner up gets a prize as well. We have a prize for you, Tora Igarashi. Please come backstage afterwards."

Ayuzawa rises to her feet abruptly, the blood draining out of her face. The scrape of her chair is drowned out by the clapping around her. She turns to leave, pushing through the crowd to head towards the door.

"And the winner is…," Satsumi begins, but Takumi is moving before he can finish, striding offstage to Ayuzawa. The distress in her eyes was real, and he only knows he must find her, to get to the bottom of this. The crowd parts for him; he has his Student Council President face on, and that usually gets it done. She is at the door now, shrugging into her coat as she pushes the handle.

"Misaki Ayuzawa." Her name echoes over the loudspeaker. Startled, she glances back, catching sight of him. To Takumi's shock, her eyes are filled with tears. What is going on? She hurries outside, half-sprinting, half-jogging down the sidewalk into the night with only a slight limp now.

He watches her for a moment, her hood falling back as she leaves him, reminded of the way his mother left. But this is Ayuzawa, and she might be in trouble, he tells himself. "Ayuzawa, wait!" he calls, sprinting down the pavement after her. Shouting an apology to his boss, he chases her across the block, down to a small park, and finds her waiting to cross at an intersection, biting back sobs.

He slows down a few feet away. The naked emotion on her face is more than he has ever seen, compared the usually blank expressions Ayuzawa displays. The costume hat keeps the rain off his face, but he is slowly getting soaked, and so is she.

Sighing, he grabs her hand and steers her to the bus stop to get them both under shelter. She is crying loudly now, covering her eyes with her other hand as heavy sobs wrack her shoulders. As soon as he releases her hand, she drops onto the waiting shed bench, sobbing like a little child.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, frustrated by his inadequacy. Her sobs are deep and heartbreaking. Lifting a hand, he carefully strokes her hair, which is now tangled and in clumps and dripping wet. "Talk to me."

She shakes her head, burying her face in her hands. On a whim, Takumi pulls her into his arms. It is something he used to do with Sasuke, when they were kids. "Ayuzawa, let me help you," he murmurs into her hair, hugging her tightly. Ignoring the sudden acceleration of his heart rate is difficult, not when holding her like this has all his instincts screaming, ' _Yes!_ ' The scent of her, and of the rain on her skin, is quite intoxicating, but all Takumi can do is hold her until the tears subside.

"He knows," she whimpers brokenly against his shoulder, and he can see she is fighting for control. "He knows how I feel about you. I'm sorry for involving you, President. I thought I could protect you."

"Is this about Igarashi?" Takumi asks, trying to understand. His mind is still reeling from her maybe-confession. She sits up, trying to pull away, but he isn't ready to let her go yet. Instead, he cradles her chilled cheeks in his hands, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. "I need you to explain things to me, Ayuzawa, if I'm involved."

Her lips tremble under his gentleness. "President. I'm sorry." In the streetlights, her eyes are dark, the fire swallowed by the night surrounding them. "Tora is warning me that my family knows."

"Knows what?" Takumi asks, warming her face with his palms. Even bedraggled and exhausted, Ayuzawa is breathtaking. She averts her gaze, colour flooding her face.

"That I like you, President," she confesses, drawing in a deep breath. "He is trying to warn me, that if he can get to you like that, in your place of work, my family will probably try to go after you."

"What?" Takumi drops his hands, a strange rush filling him. Did he just hear her correctly?

Ayuzawa pulls away, her back straight, staring at a point on the ground, her face on fire now. He gazes at her profile, feeling his heart stutter. "Look, I know you hate me, President. I'm not an idiot, and I know my limits. I just thought that I could protect you…," Before she can finish her thought, his fingers are tipping her chin up so she can face him, and his lips are capturing hers. He is just as surprised as she is when his mouth crashes into hers, and it is more than anything he has ever imagined.

Her incredibly plush lips taste of coffee, strawberry lip balm, and a flavour that is uniquely hers. If just her scent makes his head spin, well, kissing her makes Takumi's world grind to a halt. Her breath hitches against his own lips, the slight hesitation warning him to handle this girl with care.

Slipping his fingers into her hair, he cradles her head, angling her just so, to taste her and swallow her little breaths, her broken whimpers. He can taste her tears as well, the salty tang contrasting with her addictive sweetness. "President," she whispers, bewildered and awed and stealing whatever sanity he has left with her use of his title. Leaning his forehead against hers, Takumi knows now that what he feels for her is larger than anything he has every felt in his life.

She trembles under his hands. "But you hate me," she states again, as if she cannot believe it. He has no choice, really, but to kiss her again, to dispel all the hesitation and doubt and anxiety in Ayuzawa's voice. So even the queen of Seika can be insecure, he muses, though he has to admit that she may have some basis to think that.

She is softer this time, sweeter, if that were possible, Takumi thinks as he slants his mouth over hers. There is a tug on his neck; he doesn't need to look down to know that her hands are curled into fists around his shirt, pulling him even closer. She makes a little moan when he nibbles on her bottom lip. Delighted by his discovery, he does it again, rubbing a spot in the hollow beneath her ears with the pad of her thumb. She goes boneless in his arms, kissing him back just as urgently.

"A-hem." A voice interrupts them. Takumi jumps to his feet, automatically placing himself between Ayuzawa and whomever it is. A little disoriented, it takes him a second to recognize Igarashi, who is dressed casually and clutching a white umbrella. "Much as I would love to stay and watch the show, President Usui, I have to talk to our darling Misa."

Guilt swamps him. Did Igarashi witness their kiss? He turns to glance at her, over his shoulder, unsure of how to proceed. As far as he knows, they are engaged. Now Takumi is even more confused as she refuses to meet his eyes.

Ayuzawa steps out from behind him, head held high. "I'm here, Tora."

How is she so composed, when Takumi feels like his entire world has shifted? The only sign of their kiss is in the brightness of her cheeks, and the wildness of her hair. She gives no sign of any emotion, not even when Igarashi shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it around her shoulders. "Tsk, tsk, you're all soaked through. We have to go. Your father's secretary is on his way to this area, since they heard about your little _imbroglio,_ " he scolds, pulling her hood up over her hair in an almost maternal move. "I've got the car. It would be best to lie low, till the whispers die down. I'll tell them you were with me."

Takumi's hands are balled into fists of frustration against his own helplessness. "Will someone please explain to me what is going on?"

Igarashi smiles blandly at him. "No, I don't believe we will. But it's best to keep your mouth shut, about Misa, and about everything. Otherwise, it would be a shame if something happened to that cafe, or to your family. Do you understand, President?" A sense of betrayal grips Takumi, as he glares at the girl who just rocked his world. She had promised not to tell anyone about his circumstances, but here her fiance is, threatening to harm him with the secret he entrusted to her.

"Stop it, Tora," Ayuzawa's voice is low. "Do not threaten him. He will not talk." She averts her eyes, teeth sinking into her lower lip. Good Lord, Takumi had just nibbled on that same lip. Savagely, he hopes she can taste him. He hopes she feels guilt over telling Igarashi his secret. Even as he thinks this, he knows that he cannot hold this against her. The anxiety in her eyes worries him.

"Goodnight, President." She bows her head in his direction, pulling Igarashi's coat tighter over her shoulders. She looks like a little kid wearing her older brother's clothes.

"You idiot, you're too trusting," the blond scolds her as they walk away, ruffling her hair affectionately. "You know he could go to the media, and then your grandfather would really blow up." What kind of relationship do those two have?

"Ayuzawa," Takumi calls after her. She turns to face him, her eyes sad. "I don't hate you." The tiny smile that lifts the corner of her lips is enough to make the bottom drop out of his stomach. She nods, her cheeks glowing.

"I agree, if your kiss was anything to go by," Igarashi drawls, winking at him. "Oh, and maybe you should go back to work. Your boss seemed a tad concerned, President Usui. Nice costume, by the way." With that, they disappear into the expensive black car parked at the curb, leaving him alone at the bus stop.

Takumi sinks back on the cold metal bench, still trying to understand what just happened. With a muffled curse, he pounds the seat beside him with his fist, welcoming the pain that radiates up his arm.

"Good job, Usui," another voice quips, and the girl-dressed-as-a-boy from earlier steps out from behind the bus stop wall. "I had heard you have a way with women, but oh boy. You knocked that one out of the park. Straight into someone else's arms."

"Who are you?" he asks irritably, running a hand over his face. It still smells like her hair.

"Seriously?" The kid rolls her eyes at him. "I'm Aoi. Didn't you hear?"

"Aoi? Nope." Wearily he rises to his feet.

"Satsumi Hoda is my uncle," the brat smirks at him. "So what are you going to do, now that President Igarashi has swept your girlfriend away?"

"None of your business," he mutters, raking a hand through his damp hair. The girl falls into step beside him, hands clasped behind her back.

"I could have stolen her from you, too. She wasn't ugly," the kid muses.

"Last I heard, Ayuzawa wasn't into girls," Takumi snaps, walking faster towards the restaurant. The kid is caught off-guard by his statement, tripping over a crack in the sidewalk.

With the instincts of an older sibling, Takumi throws out a hand to break her fall. She is a lot lighter than her clothes imply, but once he grips her arm it is fairly obvious that Aoi is a girl. With a screech she regains her balance, her face flaming.

"How did you know I was a girl?" she hisses. "Did you watch me in the changing rooms?"

His temper snaps. "Look, kid, anyone with eyes can see you are a girl. You have no Adam's apple, your voice is too high, and anyone with eyes can see you're a girl. I don't have time for this. What do you need from me?" he yells at the wide-eyed youngster. "Are you even old enough to be out at this time of the night?"

The girl narrows her eyes at him. Now he remembers why he hates girls and women. There is too much drama. "Don't take your bad mood out on me, Usui," she snarls, shoving him so hard he takes two steps back. "Uncle just wanted me to check on you and make sure you were coming back."

With that, she sprints back towards the cafe. Great, another one. With a sigh, he heads back, leaning his head back to get more of the cool spring rain on his face.

Takumi is instantly mobbed when he enters the door, by starry-eyed customers gushing over him and Ayuzawa. He finds out afterwards that Satsumi had explained to the audience that Takumi and Ayuzawa were in fact, dating, and that Ayuzawa had studied extra-hard just to win the contest. Takumi apologizes on his knees to Satsumi once they are in the employee area, but his romantic of a boss just waves him off, giggling about young love.

Aoi stomps inside, cutting him a glare, but she swiftly subsides when Satsumi tells her that her parents are nearby. She emerges from the changing room dressed in a posh school uniform, while Takumi is taking out the garbage. "Wait a minute, is that a Miyabigaoka uniform?" he blurts out, taken aback by the drastic change.

"So what?" the girl snaps, stomping past him with her nose in the air. "How do you think I know President Igarashi?" Takumi is tempted to throw the bag of garbage at her, oh, he is so tempted to, but there's no point antagonizing the boss's niece. He trudges to the door, kicking it open. "Do you like me, Usui, you loli? I'm in middle school, so leave me alone," she calls out from the other end of the hallway.

Takumi closes his eyes and prays for patience, counting to ten slowly. He just wants this day to be over. Thankfully, Satsumi shows up with the girl's parents, taking her away. Once all the work is done, he apologizes again to his coworkers, and heads home.

The lights in his house are off when he gets home. Sasuke must be asleep, he figures, creeping upstairs. But he sees the figure of his dad, sitting in the dark, and the strong smell of alcohol hits him.

"Naomi?" his father slurs, trying to get up off the floor. "Naomi? Is that you?"

"Dad, it's me, Takumi," he mutters, kicking off his shoes. The TV blares in the other room.

"Takumi," his father sobs like a little child, clutching his knee. "Takumi, I'm so sorry for being a failure. I'm a failure as a dad. You deserve better than me."

"Dad, let's get you to bed," he sighs, helping his dad rise up. There is no reasoning when his father is in this state.

"That's why she left, you know. She left because of me. I'm so sorry, Takumi. Tell Sasuke I'm sorry too, but you are the eldest. I feel most ashamed to face you, " Shin Usui groans, gripping his shoulders weakly. A year ago, maybe two, the grip would have hurt, but now it is the weak clutch of a man given to alcohol, ever since the loss of his wife. "You are the man of the house now," he coughs. Silently, Takumi escorts his father to bed, tucking him in like a small child. "Women are useless," he adds, his eyes already closing. "Don't ever fall in love, son. We Usui men are cursed when it comes to women."

Too late for that, Takumi thinks, his chest aching.

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	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thank you for waiting through weeks of my writer's block. I've started a new job, and I feel like it is getting harder and harder to remain consistent with my updates, so I would like to apologize for that. I don't want to keep you guys hanging, and I do have an ending plotted out, it will just take a while to get there. Thank you so much for reading and waiting, and all your words of encouragement have been fantastic. Thank you. It would help if I could bounce ideas off someone, any volunteers?

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VII.

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* * *

The sky is still dark when Takumi decides to stop tossing and turning, and go for a run. He tiptoes out the front door, slipping his trainers on in the street, stretching. The chill of the dawn air clears his head, and the cricket song calms him. One foot in front of the other, he starts to run. He waves to the old man sweeping in the road, bows to a passing delivery man, and runs until his chest is bursting, until his arms and legs ache.

He sprints through the streaks of sun rise filtering through the mist, as far as his feet can take him. Lost in the rhythm of pounding the pavement, he staggers to a stop when he cannot go further. Then Takumi notices where he is: the playground near Ayuzawa's place. Chest heaving, he clutches his knees until the burning in his lungs stops.

When he straightens up again, his eyes go to where Ayuzawa lives. Her lights are off. It is dawn, and she must be asleep. Just the thought of her name sends the turmoil hurtling back into his system. He hits himself on the forehead. "Idiot." Why did he kiss her? Why? He hits himself again as he paces off the burning in his chest. "Don't go looking for trouble, moron."

"Don't beat yourself up, President." Her voice, husky and low, sends his pulse accelerating, though he can hear the sardonic note as well. Takumi whirls around to find Ayuzawa standing at the entrance of the playground, balancing on crutches. Her injury must have worsened. Her feet are elegant in rubber sandals, a bandage on one ankle slightly hidden by her long white nightdress. His chest tightens at the sight of her. Suddenly he can breathe again.

His fingers itch to touch her hair again, to straighten out the tumble of waves that supermodels try to emulate. She clutches at her hoodie to ward off the cold.

"Ayuzawa. What are you doing out at this time?" He can't help but scold outline of her black underwear is visible through the white cotton, and once again, he is infuriated by her reckless behaviour.

"I couldn't sleep." She looks away. "So I took a walk."

"Go back home," He keeps the few metres between them. She bites her lower lip, and he is riveted, the memory of her flavour now flooding through his system. "It's too early for a girl like you to be out and alone. It isn't safe."

Her jaw sets. "That again? You're not my keeper, President. Stop treating me like a helpless female. I can take care of myself." Her eyes flash at him, sending tendrils of heat curling in his stomach. Her lips tremble, and he can see her breath in the morning air. The crutches slow her down; mud stains decorate the hem of her nightdress.

"Well, apparently you take such good care of yourself that you're willing to risk pneumonia, you idiot. Where the hell is your fiance and why isn't he taking better care of you?" Takumi snaps.

And there it is, the elephant in the room. Her face shutters immediately. He gives her a mockery of a nod, anything to get the last word over this girl who holds too much power over him.

"You said you didn't hate me." Her words halt his steps. "Were you lying, President?"

"I don't understand," he admits, meeting her gaze. "You are engaged, Ayuzawa. He is not your boyfriend, he is your fiance. Why are you involving me when you are getting married? I will not be a party to cheating." Takumi watches the colour drain out of her cheeks. He doesn't care. It is way past time someone said these words out loud. "Leave me out of whatever game you two are playing."

With that, he walks away.

.

* * *

.

When he gets home, he falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, even though the sun is high. It is the first day of spring break. He should be able to sleep in today, of all days.

.

* * *

.

The sound of china wakes him. Takumi's eyes fly open, and he is drowning in the scent of tea. Night has fallen.

"Oh, good. You're awake." Bringing himself up to his elbows, he squints through the darkness to find Tora Igarashi sitting on what looks like a throne, sipping from a snowy white porcelain cup. He isn't alone, either. Beside him, looking unperturbed, are his brother and his boss, both in identical chairs. Is he still dreaming? The street lamps cast lights on the ceiling, but this seems very real, down to the man in a suit pouring tea into Sasuke's cup. "Good morning, sunshine!" The blond boy joins him in bed, forcing him to back up against the wall.

"What the heck is going on?" he demands, pulling the comforter up to his chin.

Igarashi's smile has too many teeth, but it is his hands that Takumi has to avoid, one patting the top of his head, and the other pinching his cheek. "You're really cute," Igarashi snickers. "I can see why she favours you. Turn on the lights, please." The bright white light blinds him temporarily, rendering him defenseless to the other boy's attack.

Takumi casts desperate eyes to his brother but Sasuke, mesmerized by the cookies on the plate, ignores him. "What do you want, Igarashi?" he growls, as the other boy hooks an arm around his neck.

"What does one usually want? World peace, naked women, and hot tea. What do I want? Mostly, for you not to bore me. I have decided to rent you out from Mr. Satsumi Hyodo over here, for the duration of spring break." The man in question lifts his cup in greeting. Takumi sends his boss a glare, and fixes his attention back to Igarashi.

"Why?"

"I'm heading to our beach house in Okinawa. You are coming along," Igarashi winks, unhanding him. "Let's go." He rises to his feet, dragging Takumi out of bed. "No need to pack, I've got clothes ready for you. We inspected your closet while you were sleeping, and do you even know what colour is? No, I'll provide you with a wardrobe, President Usui."

Two men in black suits flank Takumi, gripping his arms. "No! I refuse to do this. This is abduction."

"Sure, sure. Don't worry, you'll be paid handsomely for your time." Igarashi comes to a stop as Sasuke blocks the door. "What do you want, littlest Usui?"

The middle-schooler pushes his glasses up his nose, his face blank. "I have to agree with him, you cannot take him away like this."

Igarashi grins. "Aren't you cute. Did you want to come along, baby brother?"

"What?" Takumi objects. "Don't involve him."

"It isn't that," Sasuke explains. "He has his student council meetings."

"Ah, those," Igarashi sighs, tapping his lips with a finger. "Hmmm… Who is the vice president of the Seika student council?"

"Yukimura, Sir," one of the suited men barks out.

"Excellent. I can't really interfere with another school's student council, but you can teleconference during your meetings, right? That's what most of our council is doing, since most everyone is out of the country for spring break," Igarashi announces, clapping his hands together.

"We don't teleconference!" Takumi protests. "We don't do things like that. We only meet in person."

"Really? How interesting. Poor people really do things differently. I don't believe the Miyabigaoka council has ever been in one place at the same time. We're all heirs of large companies or political families, so it is too dangerous. Hmmm. Well, nobody cares about Seika anyway. You can call your VP later, you're the president anyway, so you can do whatever you want." Igarashi waves at Sasuke and Satsumi as they drag Takumi outside. "Oh, and, make sure my hairstylist and valet meet us at the beach house when we land," he orders the other suited man.

Takumi has to admit, when he spots the helicopter parked in the street, that this is pretty ridiculous and the tiniest bit cool. Unlike the movies, though, there is no chance of conversation once the helicopter is in the air. The city falls away. He tries to remain unimpressed, all too aware of Igarashi's eyes on him.

.

* * *

.

A late night follows their landing at a massive estate that occupies a major part of the Okinawa waterfront. They are greeted by the house staff, arranged like chess pieces leading from the helicopter to the front door. "Did I say beach house? I meant estate," Igarashi winks, throwing an arm around his shoulders. "Call me Tora, by the way. Everyone does."

Takumi is painfully conscious of his shorts, flipflops and ratty t-shirt, in stark contrast to the opulence surrounding him. ' _You're the president of Seika_ ,' a voice hisses in his head. His chin goes up; his spine straightens. Sensing the change in him, Igarashi's grin widens.

"Attaboy," he chuckles. "Girls love confidence."

The double doors open before them, revealing a dour-faced butler. "Young Master Tora," he intones, dragging his eyes off the floor to meet Igarashi's. "Madam wishes to see you in the east study." Without changing his expression, he glances at Takumi. "She was not expecting you to bring… guests, but I believe she would wish to see you alone."

"I thought I would have more time," Igarashi mutters aloud, though Takumi wonders if he was meant to hear it. He drops his arm, and flashes a giant smile at the old man. "Nonsense, I'll introduce my friend to the lady of the manor. Come along, President." The first sign of uncertainty crosses Igarashi's face, so quickly he may have imagined it.

"Master Tora, I must protest," the butler exclaims, following after them.

"Takashi, are you being rude to my guest?" Igarashi is now every inch a young lord, ice dripping from every word. Takumi remembers a similar expression on Ayuzawa's face, when she declined a suitor who got a little too familiar.

"I apologize, Master Tora." The butler subsides, averting his gaze with the ease of many years of experience.

"President Usui," Igarashi utters his title but Takumi does not want this boy saying it, not with that mocking lilt. "Come."

.

The study is candlelit and overlooks the ocean. It takes a minute for Takumi to adjust to the dimness, enhanced by the dark woods and leathers, an overly masculine room dominated by the delicate-looking woman at the desk.

"Good evening, Cecilia," his host drawls, plopping onto the couch next to the fireplace.

"Tora, I have some wedding matters to discuss with you. I just had lunch with that odious- wait. Who are you?" Her eyes are gold, like Igarashi's, and her face is perfect, unrealistically so. She can't possibly be his mother, can she? Her gaze is direct, hard and cutting at the same time.

"I'm Ta-"

"He's my new best friend, Mother. President of Seika High School." His introduction is cut short by Igarashi's interjection. "Do try not to seduce this one, okay? I've barely broken him in, and he's not rich enough for your tastes."

Well, then. Takumi closes his mouth with a snap, observing the two. She shifts that unnerving gaze to her son. "I'm still with Maki, I'll have you know. It isn't his fault, or mine, that we fell in love-"

"Spare me the details, Cecilia. I really don't care." Igarashi rises to his feet, brushing off his cuffs as he ambles to the door.

"You're certainly handsome." The lady addresses Takumi now. "Once my… Tora has you cleaned up, you'll look better than him. Careful now, Tora, you don't want your intended bride to fall in love with your new bestie. By the way, your father is on his way here with that woman. You might want to figure out how to placate him, after your latest refusal to move up the wedding date."

Igarashi bows mockingly. "Goodnight, Mother dearest."

"My name is Cecilia," she hisses. Bowing deeply, Takumi makes his escape. Rich people have the same issues as poor ones, but on a larger scale, he supposes. The pang of sympathy he feels for the other boy is surprising. They have more than Ayuzawa in common, it seems.

"President Usui," Igarashi drawls, leading him down the corridor, past the uniformed servants. "Have you ever had a makeover before?"

.

* * *

.

The mattress is three times thicker than Takumi's futon at home, and the restlessness stirring in his gut has him tossing and turning. Finally, he gets up, glancing at the clock. 4:12 AM. Sleep is not going to come anytime soon, so he decides to take a walk. After pulling on a light jacket, he slips on the brand-new trainers waiting at the doorway (a perfect fit, he notices begrudgingly) and heads out of his room.

The house is a maze of brown corridors, but servants are cleaning endlessly, even at this time of the night. They drop into curtsies at the sight of him. He makes his way to the back of the building, led by the scent of the sea. It is one of those Hawaiian beach resorts that he saw in a magazine once, all draped curtains and doorless entryways.

Then he sees it, a path of white sand in the green, leading to the ocean. A suited security guard nods at him, from the entrance of the house. He nods back, picking up speed as he crosses the garden, kicking off his shoes to feel the sand beneath his feet.

The moments before sunrise are Takumi's favourite. He closes his eyes, letting his feet take him forward as he inhales the chilly, salty air, the sound of the waves filling his ears. The coldness is different from when he runs, seeping into his skin, loosening his chest with every deep breath.

A memory stirs.

 _He is young, barely able to reach his mother's hand. "Don't be afraid," she laughs, "I'll always be here to catch you." His feet sink into the soft sand, and the beach is endless. He wants to play in the water but his mother's fingers are cold. He looks up at her, but her eyes are resting on his father, and sadness crosses her face._

Takumi opens his eyes again. The sky is always darkest before dawn, and the stars are out in full force. Why did his mother come to mind? His brows draw together as he strides towards the water.

Then a movement from the corner of his eye has him spinning around. Something white flutters on beach chair, about a hundred feet away, the occupant protected by an umbrella. What little he can see of the person sets his heart pounding. He casts an eye behind him to make sure the guard is still at the house entrance, just in case. Then he makes his approach.

The lacy skirt flows around familiar-looking ankles. His gaze trails up, and he finds, with resignation, that Ayuzawa is curled up on the chair, fast asleep. He sighs, not even surprised anymore. Somehow he always finds her, as if his inner compass was oriented with her as his North. Shrugging out of his jacket, he drapes it over her flimsy nightgown.

.

.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Another chapter. I may be getting back to regular updates, yay. No more block. As always, please let me know what you think, love it, hate it, whatever. :D Also... I think I am in love with Tora. Cheers.

* * *

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VIII.

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* * *

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She hiccups, her shoulders quivering. Taking a closer look, he realizes that she is crying in her sleep, her arms locked around her knees in a fetal position. "Ayuzawa," he breathes, unwilling to wake her. She whimpers, curling up even tighter, her hair covering her cheek.

Of course she would be here in Okinawa, as the fiancee of the heir apparent Igarashi. But on the beach, in the dead of night? He takes a seat at the edge of the chair, careful not to touch her. Something settles in his chest, soothed by her presence. Just when did he get used to being around her?

He glances at her face, mere inches away, his stomach in knots. Then he sees the bruised cheek, the split lip. Something inside him breaks. He reaches for her without thinking, pushing her hair behind her cheek to get a closer look. _Who the hell did this to her_ , he seethes inwardly, tamping down his fury so he can think clearly.

When his fingertips graze her skin, she bolts awake, flinching, her arms flying upwards to protect herself. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she whimpers, retreating so abruptly she crashes into the back of the beach chair. Fury surges up, threatening to choke him. Who dared to raise a hand to her? Was it Igarashi?

This broken girl is so different from the Queen of Seika High. It breaks his heart, even as he is furious. "Misaki," he soothes, raising his hands in surrender, hoping she cannot see how they shake because he is so angry. "Misa, it's me."

She is trembling so much that her teeth are chattering. "P-p-president?" Her arms go down now, her eyes crashing into his. She stretches out one hand to touch him, then retracts it quickly. "Are you real?"

He has never seen fear in this girl's eyes, not once, until today. She wipes her cheeks with the backs of her hands, averting her gaze. Now he can see the bruises on her arms. "President, what are you doing here?" Her whispers signal her urgency. "You shouldn't be here, who brought you here?"

"Igarashi did," he tells her, trying not to startle her. "Did he do this? Did the bastard hurt you?"

"Tora? No, he would never hurt me," she interjects, her eyes darting around wildly. "But you shouldn't be seen with me, not here."

"Misaki, who did this?" He wraps his jacket around her, careful not to make contact. He can feel the heat of her skin even through the fabric. "Talk to me." Is it messed up that he still wants to kiss her, crying and battered as she is? Savagely, he tamps down his urges. She comes first now, and he wants to kill whoever did this to her.

"President." At this close range, he can see the defenses come up in her eyes, locking him out. "You have to go before they see you."

"Before who sees me?" he growls, searching her face anxiously.

"Don't worry about me," she whispers, her gaze falling to his lips. "You called me Misaki."

Startled, he shakes his head. "Don't change the subject. Who did this to you? Shouldn't we go to the police?"

"It should have been enough." Her voice is so low, he doesn't know if he imagined hearing her. "Why am I so greedy?" Heat radiates from her. He lays a hand on her forehead.

"What are you talking about?" He is worried by how hot her skin is, and wonders if she has a fever. Her whole body is trembling. He pulls his jacket tighter around her shoulders, his mind racing. Should he involve Igarashi, or just call the police? A faint smile crosses her face, confusing him further.

"I'm happy you kissed me, President. I was able to tell you how I truly felt about you. Thank you." She rises to her feet, keeping the chair between them, keeping her face averted. "This is enough, it must be enough. Please, please stay away from me. You must promise me, President." Her shoulders gleam in the moonlight as she shrugs off his jacket, placing it on the chair.

"Ayuzawa," he protests, getting to his feet. "You're burning up."

She pauses, turning so he can see the sad smile on her face. "You've already called me Misaki. No going back. Goodbye, President."

"Where are you going?" he demands, chasing after her. "You're in no condition…"

She interrupts him, pointing to the lights on the hill. "My family's estate is over there. Go back to Tora's. You'll be safe there."

The sky is changing colours now, and he can see how flushed her face is. Her chin is raised, as if she was going into battle, the gold of her eyes flashing. Then she staggers, once, twice. He catches her before she hits the ground.

She is light. He remembers how strong she was when he sparred with her, but even then, it was like she would break if he held her too tightly. The nightgown is flimsy, a meager barrier between them, and he is a teenage boy, after all. He lifts her up easily, carrying her bridal-style. "Misaki," he calls, wanting her to wake so she can slap him, or stop him, or just stare at him with her unblinking golden eyes. "Please wake up." She groans, burrowing deeper into his arms.

He glances over his shoulder. There is no way he can leave her out here, exposed to the elements, but the guard by the door has disappeared. Takumi decides to take her to his room, and figure things out from there. The priority, after all, is her health and safety.

He sneaks them past the servants, thankful for the early hour. It is a long trek to his room, and when he finally lays her on the four-poster bed, he has to pause a moment to catch his breath. She whimpers when he releases her, reaching for him. "I'm here," he soothes, slipping his fingers into hers. She quiets immediately, relaxing on the black silk sheets.

Now he can see the bruises on her legs, the blood on her feet. She must have walked barefoot for a while. He watches her sleep for a few minutes, unable to do anything else. Then, he heads to the bathroom, wetting a towel. She barely protests as he cleans her fingers and feet, snuggling deeper into the pillows as soon as he is done.

"I really need to get some sleep," he tells himself, feeling the toll of his exertions in his joints. But he is afraid to get into the same bed with her, afraid he will lose control. It has been a little less than forty-eight hours since he kissed her, and he still cannot get her out of his head. And yet, how did she get so bruised since he saw her last?

He decides to tell Igarashi. This is their business, after all, no matter how much Takumi wants Misaki.

Sticking his head out the door, he makes sure that the hallways are empty before trekking down the end of the wing to the double doors that mark Igarashi's room. He knows the way from night before, when Igarashi had pointed it out. Hesitating for a moment, he knocks.

A low moan comes from the other side of the door. Takumi pauses. Did he just imagine that sound? Then, he thinks about the girl waiting in his room, and knocks again, louder this time. "What the fuck do you want?" Igarashi calls, sounding annoyed.

"It's me. I need to talk to you." he calls out. Footsteps shuffle to the door, and Takumi finds himself face to face with a naked, disheveled man who is definitely not Igarashi. He rubs a hand over his stubbled jaw, squinting at Takumi, who is shocked into speechlessness.

"Your name?" he grumbles, scratching his muscled torso.

Takumi does not know where to look, so he stares up at the ceiling. "It's Usui, Takumi Usui." What the hell is going on?

The man turns his head and yells over his shoulder. "Takumi Usui, he says."

"Fine, fine, I'm coming," Igarashi grumbles, delivering a slap to the bared bottom of the other person sharing his bed. A feminine giggle floats out, and in the dim morning light, Takumi can barely make out the face of one of the maids who had greeted them last night. The naked man heads over to Igarashi, helping him into shorts and a robe before planting a kiss on the other boy's mouth.

Takumi averts his gaze, but not before he catches Igarashi grabbing the other man's butt as they make out. He has never felt more out of his depth than now, and isn't quite sure how to react. "What is it, Usui?" the other boy drawls, sauntering over. "Are we shocking you?"

"I need to talk to you," he repeats, meeting Igarashi's amused stare. The boy's exposed chest is covered in red spots- Takumi realizes that those are hickeys. Now he is angry, for Misaki's sake. They are engaged to be married, after all, and here Igarashi is, blatantly flaunting his lovers. No wonder Misaki is so sad.

He grips the other boy's robe, dragging him outside. The naked man attempts to stop them but Igarashi waves him away. Once they are alone in the hallway, right outside Takumi's door, he slams Igarashi against the wall, hard. He is so angry right now, to be so helpless in the middle of this mess.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" the other boy swears, getting to his feet, furious.

"Were you the one that did it? Were you the one that hurt her?" Takumi hisses, grabbing his lapels again.

"The hell are you talking about?" Igarashi roars, throwing a fist at him.

Takumi grabs it, using his momentum to twist the other boy's arm, slamming him against the wall. "Did you hit Misaki?"

A string of profanity greets his question, but the other boy goes still, breathing hard. "It's too fucking early in the morning for this," Igarashi growls. "Let go of me."

"Answer me," he demands, twisting his arm higher. "Did you hurt Misaki?"

"What are you talking about? Where is she?" Igarashi rages, sending Takumi a baleful glare over his shoulder. Wait, what the hell is he doing? Misaki may need medical attention right now. He can deal with Igarashi later. He releases the other boy. They size each other up in the hallway.

"She's here," Takumi tells him, pointing to the room behind him. "I found her on the beach, her face bruised. She was asleep on a chair."

"Fuck," Igarashi swears, heading to the doors of Takumi's room.

"No, don't bother her," Takumi snaps, throwing an arm out to stop him. "She's also got a fever. She might need a doctor and there is no way I'm letting her see you like this." He indicates the other boy's chest area, exposed by the robe. "You're her fiance, for God's sake, and here you are cheating on her. You've got other people's spit on you right now."

"Hypocrite much? Aren't you here to pry Misa away from me?" The look Igarashi throws him is full of venom. "Then you stay here, Saint Usui, and I'll go kill her bastard of a father. I'll send a nurse in to see her. Don't leave her alone." He whirls around on his heel, the robe fluttering behind him.

"You dragged me into this," Takumi growls, shoving him. "You kidnapped me, literally from my bed, and brought me here. What kind of game are you all playing? I don't want any part of this."

"Do you want to save her?" Igarashi asks quietly, turning his head to the side. "Then save her. Don't get in my way. I know her. I have loved Misa since I was a child, and I was her world and she was mine. Then suddenly all she sees is you." The other boy's eyes are amber in the dawn light, meeting his. "And I will give her anything she wants to make her happy, even you. I'll be damned if I let them destroy her too. She is all that's pure and whole and good that's left in my world."

Takumi stares at the other boy, floored. Igarashi looks defiant, but his ears are tinged red. A cry from inside the room has them both running. Misaki thrashes on the bed, sobbing.

"Misaki, it's okay, you're safe," Takumi soothes, taking her into his arms. She fights him at first, clawing and screaming until her skin is damp with sweat. He combs her hair away from her face with his fingers, casting desperate eyes at Igarashi. "Call that nurse now!"

Igarashi nods, running back out the door.

"Misa," he pleads, wrapping his arms tight around her to keep her from harming herself and him. "You're okay. I've got you. Shhh." He rocks her back and forth, remembering how he used to comfort Sasuke from his nightmares as a child.

"Don't, I'm sorry," she sobs, "I promise I'll be good, I promise." Eventually her sobs drop off, although her skin is on fire.

.

* * *

.

Some maids and a nurse show up, but Misaki does not calm down until Takumi holds her hand. The nurse gives her an IV drip and an ice bath, to bring her temperature down. Takumi sits beside her through the whole ordeal, keeping his eyes closed to preserve her modesty. Once she is bathed and dressed, he carries her back to the freshly-made bed. He does not remember seeing Igarashi again after this. Exhausted after the long night, he falls asleep, curling up beside her, fingers intertwined.

.

Takumi wakes up in layers; first, the dreams of showing up to school in his butler uniform melt away, then the smell of the sea and a familiar, haunting scent fill his nose, making him venture out from under the pillow covering his face.

Misaki's golden eyes gleam in the afternoon light, the lace curtains wafting in the ocean breeze. "I've lost, President," she murmurs, turning to look away. "You're too cute when you sleep." The creases on her cheek tell him that she was watching him for some time.

He sits up, ignoring her comment. "Let me see your face, Misaki." When did she become Misaki in his head? She ducks his hand, avoiding his touch.

"No," she mumbles, throwing her arms over her face.

"I just want to check your bruise," he snaps, holding her wrists, careful not to touch the IV drip. She twists and struggles, a lot weaker than when he last sparred with her. Somehow, in their scuffle, he ends up straddling her. "Why are you fighting me?"

"Don't touch me," she grumbles, turning her head to hide the bruise.

"I need to check it. Stop being so stubborn," Takumi scolds. "We have to see if you need a cold compress." Having her show some spirit actually makes him feel better. The helpless, sobbing Misaki of the past two days left him unsettled. Even now, seeing the wound on her lips makes him want to destroy things. "Seriously, Misaki, it was 24 hours since I saw you last. How did you get so sick so fast?"

Peeling her hands away, he can see the obvious signs of her anger; the pout of her lips, the gathering of her brows, the set of her jaw. "Misa," he repeats in a softer tone. "Look at me, please."

His heart skips a beat when she turns her eyes on him, frowning. He traces the obscene mark on her cheek, careful to keep his fingers gentle. The edges are a dark purple now. She exhales when he brushes his fingertip over her lower lip, her eyes sliding to a close. Takumi is transfixed. In the afternoon sunlight, she is ethereal.

"President," she whispers, her breath tickling his skin. "You're so unfair." He should stop touching her, he knows, but he can't seem to help himself. His fingers curl; she turns her cheek to rub against his knuckles, like a kitten. Takumi's breath catches.

"Um, I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Tora purrs from the doorway.

Two things hit Takumi immediately. One, that his position right now (on top of Misaki, straddling her, with his closed hand on her cheek) is extremely incriminating, and the second is Tora's expensive-looking leather shoe, bouncing off his head.

"What the hell?" he frowns, climbing off Misaki immediately. His embarrassment hurts more than the fresh bump on his head.

"Yes, I'll thank you not to accost my wife-to-be, President," Tora drawls, ambling over to retrieve his shoe. "Actually, go take a walk. There are some things Misaki and I need to discuss in private."

"Well, thanks for talking about me like I'm not here," Misaki mutters, struggling into a sitting position. Igarashi is at her side before Takumi can react, placing a pillow behind her head. The look on the blond boy's face when he gazes at Misa is open and affectionate. It infuriates Takumi further.

"Don't be sarcastic, darling," Igarashi chuckles, arranging her hands neatly in her lap. "It doesn't become you. Oh, by the way, President Usui, if you're hungry, just head to the dining room."

Takumi's stomach growls at that precise moment, humiliating him further. Igarashi gives him a smug grin. "You haven't eaten a morsel since we arrived, I'm such a terrible host. Go, tell them what you want to eat. They'll make it for you."

"Stop pretending you're a gracious host," Misaki grumbles. "You just threw a shoe at him, you jerk. Go apologize to him. Don't leave, President."

Annoyed, Takumi ignores them both, stomping out the door. He is so done with the two of them, no matter how much Misa seems to need him. One treats him like a servant, the other treats him like a dog.

There should be some kind of bus from here back to Tokyo, he figures, since he probably can't afford a plane ticket. He pauses, realizing his wallet is still on the nightstand. Damn it.

He wanders the corridors in search of the kitchens. As he crosses the massive entry hallway, he comes face-to-face with the valet from Igarashi's room, dressed in a suit. "Good day, sir," the other man intones, bowing from the waist.

Awkwardly, Takumi returns the bow. At the butler cafe, he does the exact same thing, so he is creeped out by encountering the real thing. But he would never ever kiss Igarashi, not for all the money in the world.

Once he reaches the dining room, a uniformed maid escorts him to a table set with snowy white linens, by the window of a massive room. She takes his food request (soup, if they have it, he tells her) and leaves by way of an invisible door in the paneling. His food comes out less than ten minutes later. He eats in silence.

Two maids come in and mop the floor. They don't notice him at all.

"She's here," one girl tells the other, "Lady Genji. I helped her bathe this morning. Poor thing, she is all bruised up again."

"Really? How did Master Tora react?" the other girl gasps. "He must have been furious. You know how he dotes on her."

"It looks like the guest that Master Tora brought was the one who found her, so Master Tora wasn't happy about that. He spent the morning at Walker Park, and came back in a terrible mood," the first girl confides. "But this guest, he spent the day asleep beside Lady Genji."

"And Master Tora was ok about this? You know how impassive he is, but when it comes to Lady Genji, he goes off the rails," the second maid asks. "And do you think his father is aware of the situation?"

"Probably. You know how he has eyes and ears everywhere. Master Tora cannot even sneeze without him knowing about him," the first maid confides. "But he's here with the mistress, so he may be too busy to deal with that. Madame is not happy at all that she is here."

"Master Tora's guest, though, he is so hot," the second one chuckles. "If Madame sets her eye on him, he had better run fast. I hear she is tiring of Young Master Kanade." The two girls leave the room, chattering away.

Takumi rises to his feet, his appetite completely gone. It is time he and Igarashi had a talk.

He catches Igarashi as the former is exiting the room, and studies the other boy. There are shadows in his eyes, and his brows are tightly knit. He stops the other boy with a hand on his shoulder. "Wait, I need to talk to you."

Wearily, Igarashi straightens his shoulders and his brows. "What is it now?"

"What am I doing here, Igarashi? Why did you bring me here? And who the hell is Lady Genji?" Takumi squares his shoulders, ready to fight if he has to.

The blond boy raises his eyes to the ceiling and heaves a sigh. "I need a fucking drink."

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A/N II: Oooh. Secrets are coming. Please read and review :D 3 You guys rock.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Ok, maybe a chapter every week is too much, lol. But hope you enjoy this. Thanks for reading and reviewing, as always! You people rock.

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Takumi studies at the amber liquid in the glass that Igarashi sets before him, the exact same colour as Misaki's eyes. The other boy sprawls on the leather chair across him, swigging directly from the bottle. "Don't you want your drink, President Usui?" he asks, quirking a brow.

"We are underage," Takumi states, lacing his fingers together. The smell of old leather and books hangs heavy in the air, but he is too tense to be excited about it.

"Pardon me?" Igarashi stares at him blankly for two seconds before bursting out laughing. Takumi weathers his mirth, mentally counting to a hundred to keep from throttling him. "Good heavens, you're serious. Have you really never had a drink before?" Takumi glares back, then lifts his glass and proceeds to pour the drink out into the flower vase.

"Damn it, man, have some respect," Igarashi exclaims, gripping his wrist. "That Glenmoragie's older than you." He snatches the glass away from Takumi, knocking back the remaining whiskey. Then, he refills the glass, pushing it towards Takumi. "Drink."

"No," Takumi shoots back. He has seen his father lose control too many times. There is no way he is touching this stuff.

"You'll need it, I promise you," the blond boy mutters, draining the glass again. He slams the glass on the table, his eyes brighter now. "Okay, that's better. What did you want to talk about?"

Takumi tries not to let his impatience show in his voice. "Who is Lady Genji?"

The corner of Igarashi's mouth lifts. "You really are adorable, you know that?"

Annoyed, Takumi rises to his feet, but Igarashi grabs his arm, laughing. "Okay, okay, calm down. It's Misa. Her real name is Misaki Genji. Her father is Ryutaro Genji, and her mother was Kotomi Ayuzawa."

"Wait, Ryutaro Genji- isn't he the head of Parliament?" The blood drains out of his face. He is truly out of his league here, among these people. "And his wife was the Lady Ayuzawa, I remember reading about her in the news when she died so young, the last of a noble line. I mean, I knew her last name was Ayuzawa, but I didn't think it was The Ayuzawa clan."

"Not quite the last," Igarashi sighs, refilling the glass yet again. "They had an arranged marriage too, just like we do. By the way, President Usui-" He pauses, his face sobering. "Takumi. We are moving your stuff to a different room. There must be no besmirching of Misa's reputation, do you understand?"

"I'm not the one people should be worried about," he mutters, crossing his arms. "Why am I even here?"

"To answer your first question, no. No, you can't go home yet. There will be a party in two days. The Genjis will be there, and so shall my parents. In fact, a lot of my schoolmates will be there, and I have taken the liberty of inviting the rest of your coworkers. Nobody from your school, of course. I understand that you are trying to hide that part of your reputation," Igarashi sips the whiskey, leaning back. "We are going to announce our wedding date at the party. She will not be going back to Seika High after spring break. Instead, she will be transferring to Miyabigaoka, to finish out the remainder of high school."

Takumi knows this was coming. It had been two short days since he first kissed her, and really, Igarashi has every right to her. Still, it feels like someone had sucker punched him.

Wait. Does this mean that Takumi likes her? He forces himself to nod. "I understand."

"Do you, really?" Igarashi studies him over the rim of the glass. He is red-cheeked, now, probably more than halfway drunk.

"So why wait till then? Why keep me here?" Takumi gazes out the window at the sea, the waves echoing the turmoil in his head.

"Because Misaki has never asked for anything." Igarashi sips, then leans his head back on the black leather, eyeing at the chandelier. "Not once in her life. She's a goddamned lady, and to her useless father, she's only as good as who she marries, because she was born without a penis." He waves the glass, chuckling mirthlessly, slurring his words now."So she's marrying me, right? Her dad sends her to live with us, to learn how to be a proper wife from the Igarashi household. Don't know why he thinks that we know anything about that. He knows my mom." He pauses to drain the whiskey, setting it down on the table with the exaggerated care of a drunk person. "But she got attached to that woman."

"What woman?" Takumi asks. He is having trouble following Igarashi's rambling.

"Doesn't matter who." Igarashi brushes off his question with a wave of his hand. "But then, the day before we enter high school, she says, no, she wants to go to Seika. She wants to live alone, by herself, to cook and clean and do whatever it is poor people do. She has never asked for anything, and her dad thinks it'll be good for her. Then… radio silence. So I follow her one day. And she dresses in that tacky little uniform...,"

"Hey," Takumi objects, scowling. He does not know why Igarashi is telling him all this.

"You do have to admit, your school uniform is pretty terrible," the blond boy interjects, aiming a finger at him. "Whoever picked it should be shot."

"Continue," Takumi urges.

"Right, right. So yeah, she walks to school. Walks," Igarashi repeats, bewildered. "I mean, who does that, right?"

"Everyone else in the world." Takumi mutters, praying for patience.

"And then she waits right outside the gates, and then you come in, and her face lights up. It fucking glows, and you don't even see it." Igarashi drops the empty glass on the table, slouching against the couch. "You barely look her way. And then her eyes follow you as you walk inside. This was two years ago."

Takumi stares at the surface of the table, unsettled, his chest tight. Part of him wants to run to the girl in the other room, to hold her tight and never let go. The other part of him wants to run fast and far away.

"I have never seen her like this," Igarashi repeats, tipping his head back again. "About anything else. And I know her as well as I know myself."

Needing to do something, Takumi rises, walking to the window. The sea beckons. It is almost sunset. "So what do you want me to do?"

"I want you to break her heart."

"No," he shoots back immediately, his fingers digging into the window sill. Hasn't Misaki been hurt enough?

"Do you honestly think you can protect her, President?" Igarashi sighs. "I thought you more of a realist than that. I mean, it's not like you love her, right? Unless you do… You did kiss her."

"And what about you?" Takumi snarls. "You claim to love her but you sleep around. What of that?"

"Are you a virgin, President?" the other boy mocks, rising unsteadily. Takumi watches his approach in the window glass, wary.

"That's not the point. You keep talking about loving her and protecting her. Aren't she and I just toys to you? And protect her from what? Her father?"

"So you are a virgin. Ah, well, you should be rid of it soon enough, you're a healthy teenage boy in a mostly female school," Igarashi announces, throwing an arm around his shoulder. "I can help you with the other kind of virginity, if you know what I mean."

"You're… joking, right?" Takumi glares at him, feeling his cheeks heat up. He is definitely out of his depth here.

"She isn't, either, if that helps. But that is to be expected. We are to be married, after all. There is no thwarting the collective will of our families. Hey, if I knew for sure you could take care of her in a manner that she is used to, and protect her from the consequences and wrath of her family, I would be okay with you running off into the sunset with her," the other boy states, gazing out to sea as well. "But you are just a teenage boy, president or not. And sooner, rather than later, I will be married to her. But you will always be a ghost in our marriage, unless you end it now before anything can start."

He turns to Takumi, his eyes sad. "Love is more complicated than you think. And Misaki's very sheltered in more ways than you can imagine. She is aware of my… activities. She has known about my tastes from the beginning. It does not matter to her. I need you to break her heart, President, so I can make her happy. You have two days."

The door opens, and the man from last night stands in the doorway. Takumi turns away from Igarashi's arm, pushing his way out the door. The man smirks slightly as he brushes past him. "I hear you are a butler too," the valet murmurs.

Takumi doesn't answer, walking faster. He doesn't know where he is going, or what to do. All he knows is he needs to get outside, needs to breathe, away from these people and all their games.

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He finds himself standing outside the door of his old room (does it count as his old room if he had it for less than a day?) The door opens, and a maid comes out, arms full of linens. "Good day, sir," she chirps, bobbing a curtsy. "I can show you to your new room, if you wish. We have moved your things."

What things, he thinks hysterically. The clothes on his back and the wallet inside the room are the only things he brought. Even the shoes on his feet aren't his. Panic and frustration well up in his gut, and he can feel the urge to yell at the maid, unfair as it may be. He sucks in a deep breath, trying to calm down.

"I can take him." Takumi opens his eyes to see Mrs. Igarashi standing there, her eyes speculative. "It's on my way."

Great. Just great. He bows stiffly, trailing after her. "I hear you go to school with our Misaki," Mrs. Igarashi comments, turning down the hallway. "Thank you for taking such good care of her. She's a quiet child, very sweet. My Tora adores her. They will be happy together, don't you think?" A hint of steel runs through her words, and Takumi simply nods.

More unspoken threats. Takumi sighs. "I'm sure they will be."

She glances sharply at him, a look that reminds him of her son. "Our relationship is not the best, but he is still my son. I want the best for him."

Is this what mothers do? A pang of envy flares in his chest. Well, his own mother ran off, so there was no way he would know. "He is lucky to have you, Mrs. Igarashi."

She stops in front of a door. "Enjoy your visit with us, young man. Let me know if there is anything I can do to make your stay better."

He is already closing the door before her sentence ends. It may be a bit rude, Takumi knows, but he has had his fill of Igarashis. Sure enough, his wallet sits neatly on the foot of the bed, though there is no sign of his flipflops. They must have thrown the footwear away, thinking they were garbage. It irritates Takumi further. They'd been perfectly broken in.

Kicking off the shoes, he pads to the bathroom, eager for a shower. The sight of black marble and gleaming gold fixtures brings him to a halt. "It looks like a mausoleum," he mutters aloud, his voice echoing. Then, he sees the massive bathtub, next to a window overlooking the sea. It's definitely time for a bath, he decides, checking the closet doors to make sure he has clothes to change into. Igarashi has it well-stocked with preppy polos and slacks. Even the underwear is stacked neatly, looking brand-new. He doesn't want to know how much these things cost.

Sighing, he turns on the taps. The day melts into night and he watches it from the window, pacing the cold tile floor. Begrudgingly he has to admit that this is the most luxurious thing he has done and it feels amazing. He soaks in the water, neck-deep, until his fingertips wrinkle, until the water cools. Rich people do live different lives.

.

When he is done, he selects some clothes, closing his eyes as he dons them so he doesn't see the brand names. A knock on his door distracts him. "Who is it?" Takumi calls out, folding the cuffs at his elbows.

A strange woman pokes her head in. "President Usui? Oh, great, your hair's still wet. I'm here to style your hair." He recognizes her as the woman who was naked in Igarashi's bed. Awkwardly, he shakes his head.

"I don't need it," Takumi responds, backing away.

"Ah, yes, you do," the woman winks an artificially green eye, snapping her fingers. Two assistants pop up behind her, carrying bags. "Have a seat." He can only watch with dread as scissors and a comb appear in her hands.

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An hour later, they finally set him free, leaving his room with as much fanfare as they entered it. It must be past nine, he figures, running a palm over his freshly-shorn hair. Takumi had been cutting his own hair for a while, and it was different when someone else cut it. What do people do here, anyway? He is wide awake because of his late start, but not at all hungry. The bath also did wonders for his mood.

His conscience pricks at him. He is accepting the same salary as the cafe, after all. He should at least do something to earn it. Takumi is not a freeloader, after all. He heads back to the library where he left Igarashi, to see if the other boy needs to talk to him.

Instead, he finds Misaki there, sitting on the leather armchair, her chin on her fist as Igarashi is sprawled across her, his butler/lover standing guard beside him. Her gaze crashes into his as he enters the room, and her face lights up, no matter how she tries to keep her expression blank.

"Good evening," he intones, bowing.

Igarashi's eyes are red, probably from the alcohol. "Hey, Takumi," he slurs, grinning slightly. Big jump to using his first name, Takumi notes, but he supposes that is the least of the things that should bother him in this situation. "Isn't he pretty, Misa? I had my stylist do his hair. Much better than the old yellow mop. Have a seat, President, somewhere. Would you like to sit on my lap?"

He ignores the innuendo and stands next to the coffee table. The other boy's eyes are riveted on the girl the entire time he speaks, and he sounds a lot drunker than he looks. Now he can see how badly Igarashi craves Misaki's attention. Even he has a vulnerability, Takumi notes. She does not respond.

"Well, what would you like to do now?" Takumi inquires. He supposes that if he is hired for his services as a butler, he might as well earn his keep.

"I should go home, Tora. I've been gone too long," Misaki interjects. Igarashi reaches for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers.

"I'm not going to let you go home to that bastard," he growls, pressing a kiss to the bruise on the inside of Misaki's wrist. A new, possessive rage burns through Takumi, making him clench his jaw. The valet meets his gaze over Igarashi's head, a warning in his eyes.

She flinches. "It'll be okay. You know my dad's temper is short-lived." Hearing the words from her lips is unnerving. Takumi hates that she sounds uncertain, as if she was trying to convince herself that it was true. "President, thank you for bringing me here, but my dad will be worried."

"This will be your home soon enough," Igarashi pronounces, circling her wrist with his thumb and forefinger. "You don't have to go back. I'll keep you safe here. I even brought your President here."

Takumi narrows his eyes. Is that the real reason for Igarashi's abduction? Is he then just a carrot for Igarashi to dangle in front of Misaki? The look on her face is gentle as she presses a kiss on Igarashi's forehead. "It's okay, Tora. Don't sulk. I'll be back for the party. Thanks for coming, President Usui, and please do not worry. I'm going to be fine."

Ah, yes. The legendary composure of Seika's Queen is back. She rises, her head bowed to him. "Have you eaten yet?" Takumi blurts out, catching her off guard. If Igarashi is this concerned about her going back, it must be serious.

Igarashi sits up, his face hopeful. "No, she hasn't. She's just had the IV drip, right?"

"I- ah," she begins, but the valet nods.

"Yes, Lady Genji has not eaten anything today," he announces in his accented Japanese. She glares at him, almost playfully. Takumi wonders if she knows about their relationship.

"I'll cook your omurice," he offers, seeing her waver.

"You'll what?" Igarashi gasps. "Wait, you can actually cook?"

"I'll cook one for you too," Takumi sighs. "Let's go to the kitchen." He sees the first genuine smile cross Misaki's face.

"What's an omurice?" Igarashi asks, rising to his feet unsteadily. The valet catches his arm before he can tip over. Misaki laughs. Takumi ignores the rush of warmth that spreads through him at the sound.

"You'll have to take me there, I still don't know the way," he admits, shoving his hands in his pockets.

If anyone had asked Takumi a week ago if he would be eating omurice with a tycoon's son and the Queen of Seika, he would have laughed at them. And yet, here he was, serving food to them at a small wooden kitchen table, while the uniformed kitchen staff watched from the sidelines with fearful eyes.

"I did not know we had furniture like this," Igarashi admits, running his hand on the scratched linoleum surface. "Better not let Cecilia know that this exists in the house, else she'd set the whole place on fire."

"You have to be nicer to your mother," Misaki scolds, scooping a spoonful of rice and egg. "You're lucky to have one." She makes a happy sound when she takes a bite.

Igarashi pouts like a little boy. "Moms are a pain in the butt, right, Takumi?"

"I wouldn't know, my mom ran off when I was little," Takumi admits, shoveling some food in his mouth. Silence greets his announcement.

Misaki averts her gaze, and Igarashi stares at him in astonishment. "What did you do?"

"What do you mean?" Misaki snaps. "It's rude of you to say that."

"Hey, he must have done something to drive her away. Did you do something? Or was it your father?" Igarashi asks matter-of-factly, spooning more egg into his mouth.

"Tora," Misaki hisses. "This is none of our business."

What the hell, Takumi thinks. He may as well tell them the truth. "It was my dad."

"Pardon?" Igarashi props his chin on his fist, setting his full attention on Takumi.

"My mother was a nurse, and she was popular at the exclusive hospital that she worked at. She was always being pursued by the patients who wouldn't believe she was married. It drove my father nuts, since he didn't approve of her working after she had us." Takumi pauses to drink some water. "My dad ended up drinking a lot, thanks to his work. One night he caught her getting embraced by a patient when he picked her up. He lost control and beat her. When we woke up the next day she was gone. Did that answer your question?"

He looks up to find Misaki's eyes filling with tears. Uncomfortable, he stands up. "Does anyone want seconds?"

"For half-cooked egg?" Igarashi drawls, scooping the last of his food into his mouth. "Well, it isn't terrible. I don't know if I want more."

The door opens, and another boy walks in. He is closer to their age, though he has the same bored look on his face. "Ah, here you are. Cecilia told me you were back. Lady Genji, good evening. And might this be the rumoured President of Seika?" he smirks, as he scans Takumi. "Wow, I didn't know you started taking on charity cases, Tora."

Misaki moves fast, so fast that Takumi barely sees it. In the next moment, the boy is on the floor, flat on his back, her heel on his chest. "Sorry," she says mildly, grinding the heel of her sandals on the white shirt. "I must have lost my balance."

"Damn it, you may be a Genji, but you're just a damn wo-" His curse is cut off by the sight of Misaki picking up a steak knife, and checking her teeth in the reflection.

"You were saying?" Igarashi yawns, stretching as he gets to his feet. "You better not let Mother hear you disparaging her gender, Kanade. She would have your balls in a vise." He squats beside the prone boy, tapping his cheek in a parody of affection. The kitchen staff suddenly busies themselves with doing random tasks, all of them averting their gazes.

Takumi surprises himself by grabbing Misaki's wrist. "You shouldn't be exerting yourself so much," he scolds. "You're still too pale." His suspicions are correct; she sways, off balance, and he catches her in his arms again. "You can barely stand, damn it."

"Misa," Tora calls, "Is he right? Are you okay?"

"Just a bit tired," she mutters, and now Takumi can hear annoyance in her voice. "I'm fine. I just need to go home." Misaki shoves at his chest until he lets her stand up.

"You aren't going anywhere," Takumi announces, scowling. "I'm taking her back to her room, Tora." Great, now he's on a first-name basis with Igarashi. He picks Misaki up easily, worried by how fragile she feels in his arms. Without waiting for an answer, he strides out the doors. "Stupid Ayuzawa, what are you doing, attacking that random person? You shouldn't ever use violence, unless it is the last resort."

After a few turns down unfamiliar corridors, Takumi comes to a full stop.

"You're lost, aren't you?" The amusement in Misaki's voice would usually irritate him, but she sounds so much like the Ayuzawa from school, that it is comforting. "Let me down, your arms must be killing you. I'm pretty heavy, President. I can walk."

"No," he replies, holding her tighter. "Just tell me how to get back."

She directs him, a little more subdued now, and after a few minutes, he is depositing her on the bed. When he turns to leave, she grabs his sleeve. "Don't go yet."

"What is it?" he asks, sitting down at her bedside.

"Why do you take care of me?" she asked, her eyes gleaming gold in the lamplight.

"It's my job as Student Council President. You're a student," he blusters. "Why do they call you Lady Genji?"

Her eyes go dim. "It's an old, hereditary title. A little out-of date, no longer relevant, but it was important to the Igarashis to add some pedigree to their new money, so here we are."

"Here we are," he echoes, his gaze drawn to her lips. Pink and plump, and now Takumi knows how soft they are, what she tastes like. She reaches up with her fingers, hovering over his own mouth.

"I'm not really a lady," Misaki whispers.

"I know," he replies, holding his breath as she traces his lips lightly.

"Your new haircut looks nice," she adds, her fingers going to his hair. "I like it." He closes his eyes, fighting the urge to purr. Now she traces his ears lightly, sending chills down his spine. "Did Tora's stylist do it? She's a genius."

He doesn't have the heart to tell her that he caught Igarashi in bed with the hairdresser, but his discomfort must have appeared on his face, because she sighs, "Don't worry, President. I know about Tora's… activities."

"Then why are you still…" Takumi stops, his eyes going to the bruise on her cheek. "Is it that bad at home, that you will marry a cheater just to get out?"

"Tora is my best friend," she says, her eyes shuttering. "And he is more damaged than I am, so don't judge him. As for me… you're right. I should stop flirting with you, President."

"You are announcing your wedding date in two days," Takumi agrees, rising to his feet, desperate to get away from this situation now. "And I should go."

"You should," she nods, averting her gaze.

He walks to the door, closing it behind him. Misaki- no, Ayuzawa is off-limits, now and forever. He would do well to remember that, he tells himself. It may be too late for him not to fall for her, but he can stay away. That much, he can do.

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A/N II: OMG. Is this the end for our star-crossed couple? What is going to happen tomorrow?


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Okay, I can't believe I made it to Chapter 10. Well, here we are. This is where the story gets a bit steamier, and I'm bumping the rating up just a bit. (Nothing too explicit) Thanks for your patience, as I wrangle with the crazy world of adulting.

Many many thanks to theboldnbright, who fought hard for there to be smut. As you can see, she lost for this chapter, but we will have many skirmishes in the future so you can go kiss her feet in gratitude. As always. Please let me know what you thought of it, I would appreciate reviews or favs. You guys are awesome for sticking with me thus far. I reckon we are about 1/2 through though my goal is to finish soon. Love you all.

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He wakes to the sound of the waves. Sleepily, he rolls over, remembering that he doesn't have to go to school today, and there are no activities planned. Then, his fingers brush skin and hair, and he hears a sigh.

His eyes pop open, to find Misaki asleep beside him, curled up in a little ball. Bolting up, he backpedals until his back hits the headboard.

She doesn't stir, lost in whatever dreams are holding her captive. The dawn light hits her just so, making her look like she stepped off the pages of a fairy tale book.

 _Just like this,_ he thinks, _I wish time could stop and we could stay just like this._

These are dangerous thoughts. He catches himself, and frowns. This girl is not his. He reaches over, but hesitates when he catches sight of the bruise on her cheek. He decides to let her sleep for just a bit longer, pulling the blanket over her.

Before he knows it, he is asleep again.

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The second time, a sound wakes him. He sits up, glancing beside him automatically. The bed is empty, but a breeze blows into the open balcony doors, wafting the curtains. Takumi checks the bedside clock. 8:12 AM.

The skies have turned grey and cloudy, and the winds have picked up. He pads to the doors, and catches sight of Misaki, elbows on the railing, gazing out to sea. Self-consciously, he shoves his hands into his pockets, striding barefoot across the cement floor.

"Ayuzawa." _Misaki_ , the voice in his head corrects him.

"President," she greets. "Isn't this fantastic weather for spring?"

"It feels like a storm is coming," he calls out, watching the wind whip her hair around her face. She nods, closing her eyes to inhale the salty air, and his heart gives a little skip. It terrifies him, the grip she has on him. Every time he sees her, he sees a different side of her.

Not yours, he repeats to himself. Don't even think about it.

"Let's go inside," he says aloud. "You just recovered from a fever, and it looks like it's going to start raining." A crack of thunder emphasizes his words, and the corner of her lips goes up.

"Okay," she agrees, walking inside. She watches him struggle to close the doors against the wind, and seconds later, the rain hits. Suddenly, the world outside the glass windows is a blur, and the sound of the droplets drowns out all the other noise.

"Can you still go home in this downpour?" Takumi asks.

She shrugs. "They can always send the car for me if I ask for one. But I'm at the Igarashi House, so my father doesn't care too much."

"Incidentally," he asks, crossing the room to sit on the bed. "Why are you here?"

"You owe me a day, President," Misaki quips, her gold eyes gleaming amidst all the grey light. "I won it fair and square."

So she did. He takes inventory of her; the circles around her eyes, the full pout of her lips, the petite but stubborn chin. "Yes," Takumi says finally, slipping on his butler persona. "What would you like me to do, my lady?"

"President, I want to talk to you."

Aren't they already talking? "About what?"

She smiles, a genuine grin that spreads across her cheeks and makes his heart stutter. "Everything."

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.

They talk for hours, curled up next to each other in bed, while the rain beats down on the windows. This is a rare luxury for Takumi too, a day where he does nothing.

Clearing his throat, Takumi starts to share about his own life, with a father whose head is buried in the past, about his fears for his little brother and his dream of going to law school and providing for Sasuke.

He talks about how his mother came back when he was ten, dressed differently and in a fancy car with a driver. She had come for Sasuke, ordering him to stay and take care of his father. That was the first time he had heard the word mistress from his father, who had drunk himself into oblivion.

Misaki lays her head on his chest as he talks, and it is oddly comforting to feel her tears soaking into the cloth of his shirt. With his other hand, he strokes her hair, and the words come spilling out.

He talks about how Sasuke showed up, a few days after his mother had taken him, feet bloody and clothes muddied, and how this became a pattern, with his brother fighting to come home to him every time she reclaimed him. Eventually she stopped coming for him.

His voice breaks as he recounts Sasuke's words, forever burned into his memory: "You're my brother, and you don't have anyone else to take care of you."

"Your mother loves you too, I'm sure she does," she insists.

"It's okay, Misaki. I've long accepted that she doesn't give a damn about me. I probably look too much like my father or something." He gives her a tired smile that makes her eyes fill with tears. "I've stopped asking why."

Finally, she begins. Misaki talks about a lonely childhood spent on an estate, with only her tutors to educate her while her only friend was Tora Igarashi. She tells Takumi about how her engagement to Tora was the only thing that saved her from her father's rage at having a daughter instead of a son. At some point her hand creeps into his, as natural as breathing.

Her eyes are dry as she tells him about her father's lightning quick mood changes, swinging from an affable, affectionate, doting father to a furious man who can slap her over a dropped pencil or a hair out of place.

She describes moving to that empty apartment as the first breath she had taken in a long time.  
"Tora hadn't understood what it was like for me, leaving the trappings of this life, but if I hadn't gotten encouragement from- if I hadn't left, I would be living a half-life," she whispers, her eyes meeting his. "I would be afraid to breathe around my father, and it felt like I was suffocating, and he would never notice. I visit with him weekly, and I never knew what would set him off."

A half-life. This, he can understand. Then his gaze falls on the fading purple of her cheek.

"Yesterday. Why did he-" Takumi swallows the swearword, indicating the bruises on her wrist. She turns her head away, but he can see her jaw set.

"I don't want to talk about it," she states, her fingers going cold in his. "But, President, you've been working so hard. I'm sorry for bringing all of this mess to you, for getting you involved in my troubles."

Only the hitch in her breathing and the moisture on his shirt tells him she is crying. Misaki Ayuzawa, no, Genji, has mastered the art of crying silently, and that fact breaks his heart.

Misaki is crying for him, when he should be the one crying for her. At least he had his brother, but she was all alone. He tightens his hand around hers, noting how small it is compared to his. How could anyone hurt her, as delicate as she is?

No. He remembers how she had beaten up the upperclassman in school. She isn't defenceless at all, she is a black belt in aikido. His heart breaks even more when he realizes what it must have taken for her not to raise a hand against her own father, to take his abuse. She is practically an adult, and her reflexes must be ingrained in her. She chooses not to fight back, out of respect, or out of love.

"Misaki," he murmurs, stroking her scalp with his thumb. Her ears are delicately pink, a diamond stud winking up at him in the dim light. "You've had to be strong for such a long time, haven't you?"

Her shoulders shake from her sobs. He sits, pulling her into his arms as she cries harder. "Let it out," Takumi tells her, resting his chin on her head. "I won't tell anyone."

The storm outside grows more violent as her tears subside. He doesn't even wonder what time it is. Holding Misaki close, he wishes time would stop.

Eventually, she sits up, eyes swollen and lips red, cheeks wet and bruised. Even in this state, she still makes his heart skip a beat. _Completely inappropriate_ , he scolds himself, _Stop hoping. She's out of your league._

Reaching up to wipe her tears with his thumbs, he forces a smile on his face. "Feel better?"

"Yes." His heart twists when she hiccups, wiping her eyes with her knuckles like a child.

When she looks up, he realizes how very very close she is to him. _Just a little further_ , his traitorous heart tells him, _and you can taste her again_.

She nibbles on her lower lip, averting her eyes. "President, I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice a little hoarse. Butterflies flutter in his stomach, and he is finding it difficult to breathe in her scent. "I have inconvenienced you again."

"Misaki," he sighs.

"Yes, President?" Her eyes are full of guilt, and underneath that, hunger.

"Stop me." His mouth is on hers before she can reply, and he can taste her tears again, just like the first time. Her lips are softer, probably swollen from her tears but he can taste the faint traces of her strawberry lip balm.

She exhales, her fingers sliding into his hair, and whatever control he had left is gone. There is nothing except her lips, parting slowly to give him access to the secrets within. Rising to her knees, she straddles him, taking charge as she slants her mouth over his.

He drops his hands to her hips, supporting her. There is a desperation in her kiss, an urgency that has her deepening the contact, her tongue demanding more from him. She trembles under his hands when he answers with his own, licking and stroking until she whimpers against him.

Unable to help himself, he pulls her even closer, nipping at her lower lip. She responds with a moan, raking his hair with her fingertips. His heart races, trying to keep up with his head. He is falling off a cliff, losing all rationality and control with her.

"Misaki," he groans, ripping his mouth off hers. Leaning his forehead against hers, he tries to catch his breath. "Please, I need to-"

She cuts him off again with her lips, and her fingers are sliding under his shirt, now on his skin. Her touch is cold, and he can see the nervousness in her eyes, matching his own. But her hands on him make him groan, because it feels like he has waited his entire life for her to touch him.

"Misa, are you sure?" he asks against her lips.

"Stop talking, President," she growls back, biting his lip sharply. Of course she is taking charge, and Takumi grins, rising up to the challenge.

He rolls them on the massive bed until he is leaning over her, and her legs are locked around his waist, devouring her lips, learning the shape of her with his fingers. He loves the broken sigh she makes when he strokes her ear, the way she exhales when he finally leaves her mouth to scatter kisses all over her throat and neck.

Takumi has kissed her once before. Once. And now he learns where her intoxicating scent is the strongest (the base of her throat) and how sensitive her navel is when he brushes his fingers over it.

Her golden eyes darken and slide down to half-mast as he nibbles on her fingers, pressing a kiss to her palm. He holds her gaze as she unbuttons her dress from the front, heart pounding in his ears. There is uncertainty in her eyes, an unexpected shyness.

"Misaki," he breathes, awed as she parts the dress, revealing creamy skin covered in goosebumps, and black lace. "You're beautiful." Now a flush spreads across her skin, and he follows it with his lips, until he is back at her mouth, tasting her again.

She pulls his shirt up over his head, and he pauses long enough to get rid of it. He knows she has done this before; Igarashi mentioned that she was not a virgin. But, damn it, it is her first time with him. He will make this good for her, or die trying.

"President," she whimpers, arching her back beneath him.

Out of nowhere, Igarashi's words come back to haunt him. " _I want you to break her heart._ "

Takumi stops. What is he doing? In her fiance's house, no less.

Misaki's eyes open, unfocused at first. "President?"

Gently, he kisses her, cupping her head in his hands as if she was made of glass. She responds, confused at his change of pace. He brushes his lips against her belly button before closing up the front of her dress, planting a few kisses on her throat and lips.

Her eyes are filled with tears again. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no, you are perfect," he assures her, holding her close.

"Then why did you stop?" Her voice is small, like a little girl's, and her cheeks are hot against his bare chest. "If you say it's not me, it's you, I will punch you."

He has to smile at that. "Misaki, I'm a virgin."

"So?" she snaps, wiping her eyes. "I thought all guys wanted to get rid of it. What are you waiting for? Unless you're one of those guys that wants it to be with someone you- Oh." Misaki goes still in his arms. "I see."

"Wait, what do you see?" He asks as she pulls away, dashing the tears away from her cheeks with the back of her hands.

She turns her gaze on him, and he can see fury and humiliation shining in them. "You should have said something earlier. I'm sorry for throwing myself at you over and over. I didn't know…"

He drags his shirt on, chasing after her before she can reach the door. "Misaki, what are you talking about?" With a hand above her head, he slams the door shut.

Immediately she drops into a crouch, throwing her arms protectively over her head. His heart breaks as he falls on his knees, reaching for her.

"Misa, I won't hurt you." His fingers hover above hers; he isn't sure what is going on at this point. "Please, talk to me."

She lifts her head, lowering her arms slowly. "I- Ah, I'm sorry, it was more of a reflex, I didn't mean to…"

"Stop apologizing," he tells her, helping her to her feet. "You did nothing wrong. But what did you mean?"

"President, do you like Tora?" Her question throws him for a loop. She continues, averting her gaze. "You didn't have to force yourself to kiss me. I'm sorry. That... I shouldn't have tried to make you like me…"

"What are you talking about?" Takumi feels like he is banging his head against a brick wall.

Finally, she meets his eyes. " You're gay, right? And it's Tora, not me, that you like, right?"

"No!" he protests, tumbling on his butt from the shock. "I'm not gay."

"Don't worry, President, I won't tell anyone at school." She gets to her feet, cheeks red.

"Misaki," he hollers, twisting to avoid the door that she yanks open. He scrambles to his feet, sprinting out into the hallway. "Misa, wait."

He catches her turning the corner, wiping her eyes. She is athletic, after all, and she knows the lay of the land, so he runs faster to catch up with her.

At the next corner, he comes to a full stop. She is nowhere in sight, although he is now by the study, where he met Igarashi the day before.

The door opens. Is it Misaki? He strides to the entry, and comes face to face with an older, blond man.

"I'm sorry," he blurts out, bowing low. When he straightens, he gets a good look at the older man. It is uncanny how much like Igarashi the man resembles, from the blond hair to the wolf-yellow eyes. Igarashi never mentioned a brother, so this must be his father. Takumi bows again. "Pardon the intrusion. I am the president of Seika High School and my name is-"

"Takumi Usui." The older man's voice is gravelly. "What are you doing here?"

How does Mr. Igarashi know his name? He pastes a smile on his face. "I'm sorry, I'm not quite clear on-"

"Tora brought him here," Misaki interjects, appearing out of nowhere. The man and Misaki exchange a long look, and then he glares at Takumi again.

There is a movement from behind him in the study, and a woman's voice calls out. "Hideo, what is it?"

"We were just on our way to Tora," Misaki announces, forcing a smile. "We apologize for interrupting you, Father-in-law." She bows again, and herds him down the hallway before the older man can react. Once they are far enough, she takes his hand and runs.

He turns back and sees the head of a woman, exiting the doors. "President," Misaki snaps, the urgency in her voice grabbing his attention.

"Wait, we need to talk," he tells her grimly, the woman forgotten.

Voices echo in front of them. She drags him into the nearest doorway, which turns out to be a closet. They wait for what sounds like a herd of maids to pass, Misaki's face pressed to his shoulder.

"Why are we hiding?" he whispers.

"Because they're starting preparations for tomorrow's party. You cannot be seen with me, President, do you understand?" she hisses the question in his ear. The proximity to her sends his stomach flip-flopping, though her words hurt.

"No, I don't understand," he shoots back. "Why can't I be seen with you?"

"I'm trying to protect you, President,," she sighs, frustration evident in her voice. She must be exhausted, because God knows Takumi is. "I can't tell you why, but please please stay away from me from now on."

"We were about to make love less than an hour ago," he reminds her. "Now you're telling me to stay away?"

"That was before I found out you were gay," she snaps, poking his shoulder.

"But I'm not gay," he growls.

"I told you, I'll keep your secret safe. I'll even help you with Tor-" In his frustration, he pushes her against the door, covering her mouth with his in a kiss that goes on and on until she is boneless in his arms.

"Wai-," she gasps, but he kisses her again, taking command of her with slow swipes of his tongue. He swallows her moan, loving the way her fingers dig into his shoulders.

"Presid- oh," Her hand flies up to cover her lips as he makes his way down her neck, pressing his tongue to where her pulse is pounding frantically. She trembles under his hands, leaning her head back to give him more access.

In the sliver of light from under the door, he can barely see her, but he is so attuned to her, so aware of her that he doesn't need to look. Dragging his teeth over her collarbone, he is so intoxicated by her that he cannot even tell which way is up now.

"Takumi," he whispers between kisses. "Say my name, Misaki."

"P-pres…" she stammers, then muffles her scream with a hand when he sinks his teeth into her shoulder, nudging the strap of her dress to the side with his nose.

"Say it," he demands, tasting the skin underneath. "My name."

She is quiet, her gasps echoing in the closet as he explores her. Suddenly he needs to hear it, his name on her lips.

"Misa," he croons, closing his lips around her ear. "Say Takumi." She shudders and writhes in his arms, stifling her lips. He is getting damn close to begging, he thinks, but getting to that point, having her so helpless in his arms is worth it.

"Okay, okay, Presi- Takumi," she exhales, pressing a hand to his face to keep him from kissing her again. "Takumi."

"I'm not gay," he repeats, kissing the palm of her hand again. Her breath hitches.

"No, I believe you," Misaki exclaims, pushing him back. "Then why did you stop?"

Reality comes flooding in when the door opens, revealing an amused-looking Tora Igarashi. "Well, well, my fiancee and my new best friend. Here you are. I wondered what had happened to both of you."

Misaki pushes past him, her cheeks blazing. Then she stops, and looks at the other boy. "Your father saw him. I told him you brought him here."

If anything, the other boy's smile widens. "Good, good. Well, your butler is here, looking to retrieve you. I'll see you tomorrow, my dear?"

She avoids Takumi's eyes as she nods. "Goodbye. Thank you for my day, President."

Igarashi turns to him, raising an eyebrow. "So what have you been up to today, hmm?"

.

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	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Hi guys, here is Chapter 11. I'm wrestling with a few things, and it may seem a bit whiny, but here goes. I really really have a problem with "Update soon" reviews. Neil Gaiman, one of my favourite authors, wrote a blog post about it, called Entitlement Issues. There are people who tell me, "You should be flattered you're getting reviews at all." I would rather not have reviews than people who just say "NEXT!" or "UPDATE SOON." It really strikes me as rude, especially since this is fanfiction and I am not receiving any money for this. To be completely honest, everytime I get a review like this, it makes me not want to finish the story at all. I do get that you're excited, but that's not the right way to get me excited to write more. The problem is, no matter how hard people work at their stories, it is like telling them, it's not good enough, you're not doing enough.

In fact, I would rather have someone say they hated the story, than have someone just say "Update now." As Neil Gaiman says, writers are not your b*****s. This is fanfiction, after all, something we all do voluntarily. I will try to keep updating regularly, and no amount of nagging will make me write faster or slower.

We are all learning together, so please, I did not mean to offend anyone, but I felt this needed to be said. There is a reason why people are moving away from FFN to other writing sites, and this is one of the main reasons, from what I've heard.

I also wanted to say thank you to all the people who take the time to say something, because it really does mean a lot. People are busy, and we all have our own lives, and I appreciate people dropping a line to just say hi. I am humbled whenever I hear how someone likes this (because I know I am not a very good writer and you guys have been amazing.) That said, I want to make it clear: I am writing this because I love Misa and Usui as much as you guys do, so thank you for sharing all the love. You guys may hate me after this, and I totally understand. Wishing you all the best, ok? Have a great weekend.

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XI.

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As soon as Misaki is out of sight, Igarashi turns to Takumi. "So, did you guys end up doing it?" His tone is casual as he straightens Takumi's collar, the same collar that Misaki crumpled in her fists mere minutes ago.

"What?" Heat rushes to Takumi's face. He isn't sure how to react, and doesn't like how easily the other boy can see through him.

"She asked me how to get to you, so I told her which room you were staying in." Igarashi wags his eyebrows suggestively, hooking an arm around his neck.

Takumi shrugs out of his hold, glaring at him. "I'm going to grab a bite to eat," he mutters.

"Hey, why are you so mad?" Igarashi laughs. "I guess you didn't get laid?"

Takumi ignores him, walking away. He hears the other boy laugh, but he doesn't understand it at all. Igarashi grabs the sleeve of his jacket.

"What?" He cannot hide the irritation in his voice, though there is a healthy dose of guilt mixed in as well.

"Don't forget your mission," the boy states, an edge creeping into his voice.

Takumi's hands clench into fists. He yanks his arm out of the other boy's grip, resuming his path to the kitchen. This is messed up, he thinks as he stomps away, his footsteps muffled by the carpet.

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* * *

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In the morning, he is awakened by the valet, a small team of stylists and tailors, and a grinning Igarashi.

"We need to take your measurements for your suit, President. Gotta make sure you're dressed properly for the party," the blond boy proclaims as they drag him into the cavernous bathroom.

Later, Takumi strides out, his hair perfectly styled, and wearing a suit that the tailors had literally put together in an hour. He does not want to know how much it cost, but he is begrudgingly impressed by how rich people do things.

"Wow, President," Igarashi exclaims, clapping his hands excitedly. "You clean up pretty nicely." Now it is the other boy's turn to get ready, and Takumi joins the entourage as they head to Igarashi's suite. He doesn't really know what else to do at this point.

He watches, pretending interest, as his host is groomed, styled, and dressed, in a similar way, but he notes that Igarashi is clad in a white suit, emphasizing the paleness of his hair and skin. The valet slips a lily boutonniere on his lapel, and Takumi averts his gaze as the other two exchange what can only be described as a loving look. Checking his watch, he sees that it is now past two.

"Are you hungry?" Igarashi inquires. "We can have lunch sent up."

"Ah, I'll just grab some food from the kitchen. Do you want me to get any food for you?" Takumi offers, desperate to get out of there.

"No, but your guests should be arriving soon. Also, don't wander around too much. Misa and her father are in the study with my parents, you probably shouldn't show your face to them without me," the other boy advises. There are undercurrents in his statement, but Takumi does not want to know anymore.

So Misaki is here. He isn't ready to face her yet. A blush spreads across his cheeks as he remembers his shameful behaviour with her. No, he had better avoid her. Igarashi and the valet launch a discussion on the merits of necktie knots.

He cannot listen to any more of this. He rises to his feet. "I can leave after tonight, right?" Takumi asks.

"Of course," Igarashi replies, lounging back in the leather chair. He looks like a groom in his all-white suit, Takumi realizes. Probably not an accident.

Igarashi grabs the back of his perfectly-fitting coat, halting him.

"Don't forget that you are the Student Council President of Seika High School, President Usui," the other boy tells him, releasing his coat. "It does not matter if the other people are the Prime Minister or some idol or whatever. You've every right to be here, just as they do."

Oddly touched, Takumi glances at the other boy's face, but Igarashi has averted his gaze. He nods, awkwardly, wondering what Igarashi is thinking. He heads down the stairs to his room, lost in thought as he washes his hands.

He strides to his balcony again, not sure what to do with himself. ' _Three days at this mansion has made me soft,'_ he thinks, raking a hand through his hair. The view of the ocean never got old, though.

A movement from a second-floor window below catches his attention. A smile spreads across his face as he sees Misaki, her skin glowing in the red and black colors of an expensive-looking furisode. He cannot see her face, but her hair is up in some complicated knot.

Immediately, his mind tries to work out the puzzle of how to undo the hairstyle, and his fingers itch to touch her, remembering how smooth her skin was. He shakes his head abruptly to clear it.

 _'No_ ,' Takumi tells himself sternly, slapping himself. His cheek stings, but he cannot tear his eyes away from her as she wanders to the window, wearing her usual blank expression. Her eyebrows are drawn together, though, and her chin goes up. Takumi can tell she is unhappy.

A man's hand falls on her shoulder, slim-fingered and full of rings. Her whole body tightens up, though her expression does not change. Then the owner of the hand comes closer to the window, and Takumi sees the head of the Japanese Parliament, Ryutaro Genji.

Now that they are next to each other, Takumi can see how much she resembles her father, from the golden eyes to the high cheekbones. He has a cruel smile, and his eyes are cold as he gazes at his daughter. They turn, speaking to someone out of sight, and Mister Genji's hand grips her arm behind her back.

Takumi's temper rises when he sees the older man's fingers dig into her wrists, making her jerk away from him. Quickly, he whirls around, storming out the door to head to wherever she is. The hallways fly past him as he sprints, but all he can think about is getting her away from the bastard who is hurting her.

He takes a couple of wrong turns but finally gets his bearings, skidding to a halt in front of the door to the study. Raised voices are audible through the door, giving him pause. Then, he realizes that he is hearing laughter, not anger. Right when he turns the doorknob, something big tackles him.

"Takumi! The man out front told us you were here!" Subaru howls, picking him up and spinning him in circles like a long-lost boyfriend. Another body jumps on them, and Takumi staggers under the weight of Hotaru.

"We were looking all over for you," Satsumi greets, herding them down the hallway. "Igarashi-san told us to come early and hang out."

"Nice digs," Eiji chimes in, joining them.

"Wait," Takumi protests, struggling to free himself from the tangle of arms. "I need to-"

At that moment, the doors open and men in black suits and earpieces exit, escorting Misaki, her father, and the Igarashi parents.

Two men herd them out of the way, making room for the group. Misaki's eyes collide with Takumi's, and everything goes silent. She is breathtaking as always, the graceful lines of her neck and shoulders pointing to her noble upbringing. There is fear in her eyes, and warning as her father follows her gaze.

"Who are these fine young men?" The statesman booms, a practiced smile on his face.

"Th-the Prime Minister!" Satsumi gasps out. The other two boys cease their horseplay immediately, eyes widening in awe.

"Hey, wait, isn't that your-" Takumi manages to slap his hand over Eiji's mouth before he can blurt out his mistaken assumption.

"Ah, yes, this is Tora's friend," Mrs. Igarashi announces with a brittle smile, stopping their procession. "He is the Student Council President of our Misa's school. Darling Tora brought him here, apparently they are now best friends. You know him, of course, Misa dear?"

Her eyes meet his again and then fall away. "Yes, Mother-in-law. Father, this is President Takumi Usui of Seika High School," she begins, and then stops. "I'm sorry, I'm not feeling too well. May I go ahead to my room? I would like to rest before tonight's festivities."

"Certainly," the adults murmur amongst themselves as she flees down the hallway.

Takumi bows from the waist, unable to look at Prime Minister Genji a second longer. Satsumi and the others follow suit, and the procession continues.

"Takumi," Subaru clears his throat roughly, clapping a hand on his back. "We interrupted you. What were you going to do?"

What could he do to save Misaki from her father? Takumi has to swallow past the lump in his throat to answer. "Let's go find something to eat."

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* * *

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Before the party starts, Takumi heads back to his room to pack. He cannot stay here one more night, not with all of these events going on.

He opens the door to find Misaki standing in his room, staring at the bed. "Misaki? What are you doing here?"

She whirls around, roses blooming in her cheeks. "President, I didn't know where you were. You weren't responding to my messages."

So he is the President again. "Ah, I didn't bring my phone on this trip," he replies, wondering if it would be alright to walk up to her and kiss her. She nods, her brows furrowing.

"I wanted to ask… Your friends from the butler cafe, can they be trusted?" Her gold eyes are full of worry.

"I've told them not to say anything, and if anyone asks, they know Igarashi from work, not you," Takumi reassures her, crossing the room. "Satsumi is our boss, and he knows Igarashi, so he already warned them not to say anything."

"I see." The silence settles between them, heavy and awkward.

"President, I-"

"Misaki, are you-"

They stop abruptly. "I'm sorry, please go ahead," Misaki says, lowering her head. She is wearing the same familiar scent, making his chest hurt.

"How are you- I saw your father grab you earlier," Takumi ventures. She pushes her wrists behind her back, though they are hidden by the long sleeves of her kimono-dress. Misaki averts her gaze, the same blank expression on her face that used to infuriate him. Now he understands why, and it breaks his heart.

"I am fine, President. Please do not worry," she murmurs, closing her eyes. Her lower lip trembles slightly. When she faces him again, her eyes are dark and empty.

She is slipping through his fingertips like water, and he is losing her. Panic grips Takumi. "You don't have to do this, you know? You will always have a choice," he bursts out, taking her shoulders. "Misaki, you're only 16, for crying out loud. You shouldn't have to get married. Why don't you go to the police?"

Now there are tears in her eyes, and the mask slips. "You don't know what you're talking about, Takumi," she exhales, fighting not to cry. He catches the tears with his fingertips, not caring anymore.

"Let's run away, Misaki, just you and me. Right now, let's just leave," he urges.

"Takumi," she breathes, her cheeks hot under his hands. "Don't do this."

"Let's leave, Misa," he repeats, pressing a kiss on her forehead as his fingers catch more tears. "Let's go somewhere they won't find us, and just be happy."

"I can't." Her voice is so faint, he can barely hear her. "I'm the daughter of the Prime Minister of Japan, Takumi. They will hunt us down to the ends of the earth." She smiles faintly, a bittersweet twisting of her lips. "I'm surprised I got to do as much as I did with you, and I am truly grateful. But this… I… Thank you, President."

"I lo-" Her hand covers his mouth before he can say it. He can feel the frantic thrumming of her pulse beneath his fingers as he grabs her wrist, pressing a kiss on the inside. She shakes her head, sucking in a shuddering breath.

"Please, please don't make this more difficult," she pleads. He knows that if she wants to leave, she can just step away. When she meets his eyes again, Takumi can see everything she is feeling, and it takes his breath away.

Just then, the door swings open.

"Ah, here she is," Igarashi drawls, leaning against the doorjamb. His valet is right behind him, and then a woman steps into the room.

"Misaki, I heard you were-" The woman's words stop abruptly as she catches sight of Takumi.

He jerks away from Misa, staring at the newcomer as all the blood drains from his face.

Igarashi waltzes in, taking Misaki by the hand and pulling her away. Takumi is frozen in place. And the woman, in her shock, sinks to her knees.

"Takumi?" It has been years since he last heard his mother's voice calling out his name. The abandoned child in his head wants to run to her, but he is not that child anymore. "What are you doing here? How did you get involved with the Igarashis? You should not be here, Taku."

"Do not call me that," he snarls, jerking away. "You have no right to call me that. You gave up all rights to me when you walked away from us."

She stares at him for a long moment, and nods, lowering her eyes. He hates this, this meek woman who is a far cry from the laughing mother of his memories. Even so, she is his mother, and he cannot bear the fact that she is on her knees before him.

"Mother, get up," he mutters, averting his gaze as he helps her to her feet. She lets go of his hands the moment she can, and it hurts. She isn't dressed for the party; he supposes mistresses have no place in big family parties.

Once she is standing, she backs away from him, folding her arms. "Takumi, answer me. What are you doing here?"

"Father has been asking about you." He strides to the window, shoving his hands in his pockets as his thoughts descend into chaos. What is his mother doing here? Could it be…

"Are you... with Mr. Igarashi…?" He cannot force the words out of his mouth, though he is sure of the answer. A hand comes to his shoulder, startling him.

"What were you doing with Misa?" More questions. Why does she say Misaki's name fondly, as if she were Ayuzawa's mother? Her fingers dig into his suit jacket, irritating him further.

"I'm a guest of Tora Igarashi," he mumbles. "And Misaki and I go to school together."

But his mother hears the truth in his words. "It's more than that, isn't it? The way she was looking at you, the way you were holding her. Takumi, are you in love with Misaki?" Her fingers are icy as she grabs his hand.

He shakes it off, keeping his eyes out the window.

"Oh, Taku," his mother sighs. "I know she went to your school because she was curious about you, but… I never thought you would actually... This is my fault. I'm sorry."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I… That poor child. She would come from her father's house, terrified of her own shadow and I missed you boys so much so I would tell her stories about you. Misa was naturally curious about you, of course, and I was so proud of you, the top student in your school. It was surprising when she enrolled in Seika, but I thought maybe she wanted a chance at a normal life so I supported it. Anything to get her away from her father would help. I guess I should have considered that she wanted to meet you." Takumi closes his eyes, ignoring the ache in his chest.

She continues, "But, if I may offer you some advice. Takumi, please, do not get involved with Misaki. There are bigger things going on than you imagine, and Tora is the only one who can keep her safe."

When he doesn't respond, she sighs. "I've been a terrible mother, and I'm probably the last person you want to listen to. But please, I don't want you to get caught up in this. I love Misa like a daughter, but you can't protect her like Tora can."

"Leave me alone," he says wearily, unable to look his mother in the eye. "Please, just leave."

Her footsteps are quiet as she exits the room, much quieter in this house that isn't hers. He wonders where she will be while the party is going on, but decides that maybe it isn't any of his business now. He leans his forehead against the glass, closing his eyes.

.

* * *

.

The party is loud, full of sparkling people. Takumi is overwhelmed and exhausted by the time he joins his co-workers. Classical music from the full orchestra has them yelling at each other to be heard.

"You can smell the money in the air," Eiji quips as they make their way through the ballroom.

"Observe how real butlers work," Satsumi orders them.

Igarashi's valet appears, grabbing Takumi's elbow. "President Usui, you are to be seated at a different table," he murmurs.

Takumi nods, following the older man. He looks up to meet Igarashi's gaze from across the room. The other boy smiles slowly, sending him a wink.

Annoyed, he changes directions, feeling stifled by the room. "I'm going to the bathroom," he tells the valet, heading to the door. The hallways are quieter, and now he can hear himself think.

The security guards nod at him as he strides past them, looking for a quiet place. Somehow, he finds himself in the study, the same room where he met with Igarashi two days ago. He crosses it to warm his hands by the fire, when a voice stops him.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

He turns to find Aoi Hyodo sprawled on a leather chair, looking uncomfortable in a frilly dress. With a sigh, he turns back to the fire. "Your uncle's in there. Did you come here with him?"

"Heck, no. My parents are here too, which is why I'm in this stupid outfit. Make sure you impress Tora Igarashi, Mother said," Aoi mocks, rolling her eyes. "As if. Igarashi-sempai is taken, and besides, he's definitely not my type. Besides, what kind of pedophile would he be if he hit on me? Parents are weird."

"Parents are definitely weird," Takumi agrees, wondering why the heat of the fire isn't sinking into his skin. His chest is frozen still.

"So, I heard that your girlfriend is actually Igarashi-sempai's fiance. Doesn't that make you the third party?" Aoi asks, walking up to glare at him. Takumi pulls her back just in time to prevent her flouncy skirt from catching fire, though he cannot meet her eyes.

"She's not my girlfriend," he mutters, scowling at the youngster.

"I don't know, that kiss was pretty intense." _Good Lord, how much had Aoi seen_? He shakes his head, hearing footsteps.

"Didn't you really like her?" Aoi persists, sticking her face in front of his.

"That's not-" He trails off as the voices from outside drown him out.

"I can't do this," a girl says, right by the door. "I can't go through with the wedding. I'm truly sorry, and I want you to be happy, but I can't."

"But he can't keep you safe from your father," another voice responds. "Not like I can. And look, you can do whatever you want with him, get him out of your system. This is going to pass. We're teenagers, we're hormonal, I understand. You think you love him, Misa, but all he'll do is make you miserable."

Aoi raises an eyebrow.

Takumi's ears heat up, though his heart rate has kicked into overdrive. Is Misaki choosing him?

The guilt sets in. Why did his mother say only Tora could keep her safe? The image of Misaki's bruises comes back to haunt him. He had been impulsive earlier, asking her to run away with him, but at the end of the day, what chance does he stand against the Prime Minister of Japan?

The knob turns.

"I wasn't serious about her," Takumi blurts out, pretending not to hear them come in. "She's the queen of Seika, after all, and nobody could get her, so I thought she was a challenge. It was much easier than I thought, getting her to fall in love with me."

An intake of breath makes him cringe. Misaki stands in the doorway, wearing a coat over her dress. The high heels dangle from her fingertips, as if she was getting ready to run. Her face is expressionless, though something about her stillness breaks his heart. She stares at him.

 _'It's for the best,_ ' he tells himself, though his hands are icy again. ' _For her own good_.' To drive the point home, he lets his lips twist into a sneer. "Here she is now, all hail the Queen."

Misaki turns, and he can see the quiver of her lower lip. Her spine stiffens, and she walks out the room, head held high, leaving Igarashi standing in her wake.

The other boy meets his eyes, and nods. Then, he runs after Misaki.

Aoi whacks him on the back, but Takumi barely feels it. "You are an idiot, aren't you, Usui?" There is pity in her gaze as well.

He turns back to the flames, lost in thought.

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* * *

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Later that night, Takumi watches the announcement of the wedding date from his front-row seat. Misaki is pale, her eyes blank as Igarashi kisses the back of her fingers to the cheers. She does not change her expression when he kisses her, though for a brief moment, her eyes meet Takumi's. Then, she closes them, slipping an arm around Igarashi's neck.

Takumi makes his way to his group. "I'll wait for you outside," he tells them, unable to bear any more of this.

Outside the ballroom doors, he runs into his mother. Her eyes are sympathetic as she reaches up to touch his face. "I'm sorry, Taku. I know you loved her, but this is for the best."

"You better go before the reporters or the other family members catch sight of you," he tells her, leaning away from her fingers.

"You've grown up so well," his mother whispers, hurt on her face.

"Goodbye," Takumi replies, walking away.

.

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	12. Chapter 12

A/N: You guys have been so amazing and nice. Thank you. One more chapter after this. Thank you for sticking with me, and for your patience. Shoutouts to BoldandBright, and Mrs. Zala. You have both been super sweet and friendly. Cheers.

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Satsumi's driving is a lot slower than Igarashi's helicopter, but the motion of the van rocks Takumi to sleep. When they pull into Takumi's street, the night sky is changing colours.

"Go get some rest," Satsumi tells him with a wink over the snores of the others. "Take the rest of your spring break, be a teenage boy and do fun things."

He finds his father passed out in the main hallway, stinking of alcohol. "Dad, let's get you to bed," he urges, dropping his bag to pick the older man up.

"Takumi? Is that you?" the older man slurs, his head lolling. "I thought I smelled your mother's perfume. Did you see her? Did she come by?"

"Go to sleep in your bed," he soothes, dragging his dad into the other bedroom.

"Tell her I'm sorry," his father groans, collapsing on the quilt. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt her."

He trudges upstairs, careful not to wake Sasuke. At this point, his eyes are closing from exhaustion, so he drops face-down on the mattress. In seconds, he is asleep.

* * *

Takumi wakes up at noon, his head full of dreams he cannot remember. The previous night's events come back to him, and he curls into a ball, his chest hurting. "Why are you heartbroken, you idiot?" he mutters aloud. "You were the one who hurt her."

His cellphone beeps. " _Can we come over to study?_ " Hanazono texts.

The world goes on, Takumi thinks, staring at the screen. Right. After four days away, there are three days left of spring break, and all his homework still not done. He types in a "Yes," but his thumb pauses over the send button. With a groan, he tips his head back, pounding the pillows with his fist. He isn't up to company right now, though both Hanazono and Kaga are not too bad. However, they would probe him about his last few days, and he isn't ready to explain what just happened.

Things are supposed to be back to normal, but his world has completely shifted.

What is Ayuzawa doing right now? Probably getting ready for her wedding in two weeks. The image of her as a bride fills his head, squeezing his chest. Sitting up, he stabs the send button. Now is not the time to mope. He has homework to catch up on, and a school festival to plan.

Sasuke knocks on the door and pokes his head inside. "I thought I heard you moving around. Welcome back, brother. You look tired."

"It's good to see you," Takumi tells him, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Sasuke comes in, giving him a hug.

Odd. Generally, Sasuke avoids physical contact.

"Did something happen?" He holds Sasuke at an arms' length, studying him. "Did Dad hurt you?"

"No, Dad was all right," Sasuke replies, reaching into his pocket. "This arrived for you the day you left." He slips the letter into Takumi's hands.

Takumi reads the sender's name and address. "From England?"

"I think it's the boarding school you applied to when you graduated from middle school. Do you remember?" Sasuke smiles. "I believe that it's an acceptance letter."

This can't be Igarashi's doing if the letter arrived the day he left. Takumi wishes he was more excited about it; instead, he feels empty inside.

The first paragraph confirms Sasuke's words, and behind him, his brother lets out a whoop. "Wait," Takumi warns. "Don't celebrate just yet. I can't leave you or dad right now, and we can't afford the tuition. I can barely scrape by enough for our upkeep."

Sasuke snatches the letter out of his hands, pointing to the words, " _Full Scholarship_ ," " _Board and Lodging_ ," and " _Monthly Stipend_."

"Look, Big Brother, don't worry about us. We'll do fine," Sasuke assures him.

"I'll still work part time," Takumi promises, "and I'll send back money for the household."

"It'll be an excellent opportunity. I'll apply to the same school next year, maybe they'll accept me too," Sasuke grins.

Takumi's eyes fall on the date he needs to leave. He has two months left in Japan, then. Closing his eyes, he hugs his little brother, banishing all thoughts of a golden-eyed girl.

* * *

The start of school is uneventful, and as Takumi figured, Misaki is not in attendance. The assembly is full of the usual announcements and excitement for the upcoming cultural festival. Takumi presides over it with a scowl, though he has to fight not to snap at everyone who addresses him. Even the Vice Principal keeps his distance, sensing his foul mood.

The tasks are endless, given his rank and position, but Takumi welcomes them. Anything to get his mind off Misaki helps. He informs the student council of his plans and arrangements are made for Yukimura to succeed him until they can hold next year's elections. The council members are sad, except for Minako Goda, Head of Elections, who tells him she never expected a man to fill the shoes of all the women presidents before him (though later, she begrudgingly admits he did a better job than the previous one.) He cannot be bothered to get angry about it, so he just nods.

* * *

The days fly by, and Takumi runs to the Butler Cafe after school as well, jumping headfirst into whatever cosplay Satsuki has planned for the day. He works himself into exhaustion so that he doesn't have to think when he gets home, burning through his homework and then collapsing into bed.

The first test is when he runs into the three senior girls at the Butler Cafe. "Taku-chan, where's the Queen?" Kurosaki asks. The very nickname makes him flinch, and guilt washes over him.

"That's right," Shirokawa agrees. "We haven't seen her around in school, right?"

"I don't know," he snaps, surprising them. The whole cafe goes silent, and all eyes are on him.

"But isn't she your girlfriend?" Sarashina persists. Takumi feels a vein in his forehead throbbing. This is why he hates girls.

At this point, Eiji jumps in, a nervous smile on his face. "Ladies, Takumi will be going on break, and I'm going to take over. Takumi, go." He nudges Takumi with his hip. With a nod, Takumi flees to the back, tackling the dishes instead, and ignoring the stares of his coworkers.

* * *

Going through the motions is the phrase that rings through Takumi's head as the week melts away. The school is a hive of activity, but he cannot summon the energy or the enthusiasm to make it. Because he is the school president, however, he forces himself to smile for his council.

The school festival falls on a Friday, the day before Misaki's wedding. He hates that the second part is still stuck in his mind, no matter how much he tries to fill it with other things. As he organizes the school festivities, he half-hopes, half-dreads running into her if she decides to show up.

"She's not going to come," he mutters to himself as he inspects the costumes for a class play.

"Who is?" Yukimura asks, checking his clipboard. "Are you expecting someone, President?"

"No, I was just talking to myself," Takumi sighs.

A passing teacher ropes him into guiding a group of visiting students around, and more tasks appear as soon as he finishes.

"Are you going to the bonfire later, President?" a shy freshman asks, egged on by her giggling friends.

"I'm giving a speech there," he responds, wondering why the girl turns pink.

"Can I talk to you then?" she squeaks.

"Why can't you talk to me now?" Takumi mutters, already thinking of the logistics of the event. She turns and runs away, hiding her face with her hands.

"I think she is going to confess to you then. It's school tradition, after all," Hanazono tells him, nudging him in the ribs. "She was kind of cute too."

Great. Takumi had forgotten all about that part of the festival. Hanazono is right; it is school tradition, but he is sorely tempted to skip out on his speech altogether. Another class rep demands his attention, and he is running again, successfully distracted from all thoughts of she-who-must-not-be-named.

In the end, Takumi gives his speech to Yukimura, claiming a headache in order to hide in the student council office. It isn't much of a lie either, he thinks, massaging his temples as he stares at the pile of papers on his desk.

"Are you sure?" Yukimura asks. "We've got the fireworks and everything set up."

"Just go," Takumi replies. "And don't tell anyone I'm here."

"Aye, aye." Yukimura salutes smartly and closes the door behind him as he leaves.

Takumi sinks into the President's chair, the soreness in his back and legs making him wince. Come to think of it; he has been working nonstop since he got back from Okinawa. The quiet of the office is exactly what he needs, after today.

After sorting the receipts and marking them in the ledger, Takumi stretches. Night is falling, and the evening events are about to start. He decides to make one last round of inspections before the end of the day, knowing that a walk would do him good.

The classrooms are empty because everyone is down in the quad for the bonfire. He shoos out a few couples who tried to take advantage of the quiet, sending them to the public space. After all, he is the Demon President, and rules are rules.

When Takumi turns into the corridor of his classroom, he smells it: Misaki's distinctive scent, floral and musky, hangs in the air. His stomach clenches immediately, and his heart rate kicks up. Is she here?

The door of his classroom opens, and to his surprise, Igarashi strolls out. "Ah, President Usui, here you are," the blond boy drawls, looking uncomfortable in jeans and a sweater. As far as Takumi remembers, he has always seen Igarashi in impeccably tailored suits.

"What are you doing here?"

"Checking out your school festival, of course. I'm hurt, Takumi. You didn't tell me you were having one. I thought we were friends," Igarashi pouts, though there is a layer of tension underneath his words.

"What's going on? Isn't your wedding tomorrow?" Takumi narrows his eyes suspiciously.

"Yeah, well, Misa wanted to have one last look at her old campus. Kind of like a goodbye to youth, that sort of thing. Who'd have thought Misaki was the sentimental type, eh? She even did the whole dress-up thing." Igarashi's tone is too lighthearted. Something must be up.

"Did you lose her?" he asks. Somewhere, on this campus, Misaki is walking around. Is she looking for him?

Igarashi holds his phone up, showing him a GPS tracker. "Remember, we put a tracker on her? I'll never lose her." His eyes gleam in the incandescent lights. "I wanted to talk to you, Takumi."

No, he does not want to speak with Igarashi, not when he is still too raw. "I'm kind of in the middle of our school festival, Igarashi. You're a student council president, and you know how it is. Anyway, I've got to run."

He turns on his heel, fleeing when Igarashi calls after him, "Thank you. For what you did, and what you said."

Takumi stops. Not sure what to tell the other boy, he nods tightly.

"It's funny, you know. Here we are, scrambling to protect Misa," Igarashi shakes his head ruefully, moving to stand in front of him. "I forget how self-contained she can be, and how brave she is. Here. She's going to need some moral support."

Takumi doesn't understand why Igarashi hands him the phone. "Go find her. Tell her not to be out too late," the blond boy tells him. "I've got my errands to do. By the way, she's the red dot on the screen."

With that, Igarashi waves and heads off.

What was that? Takumi looks at the screen in his hand. She is close.

He doesn't even know what he'll say to her, or if she'll even talk to him. All Takumi knows is that he needs to see her, right now. Before he knows it, his feet are moving, running, taking him towards the flashing red light.

According to the device, she is in the second-year classroom at the end of the hallway. The lights are out, so he hesitates. Is she in there? The sound of a chair being moved makes him jump.

With clammy fingers, he slides the door open, and then everything inside him stops. All he can see is right now is Misaki, kneeling on the desk by the window, her fingers pressed to the glass as fireworks light the sky outside. A knot in his stomach dissolves at the sight of her.

It's true what they say about brides looking radiant, he thinks, feeling his chest tighten at the sight of her profile. She is dressed in some Renaissance costume, and it suits her perfectly. Everything suits her perfectly, of course. She is Misaki Genji.

"I had wanted to see the festival one last time," she murmurs, tracing the lights with her fingertips. "I didn't mean to sneak in here. Are you going to kick me out, President?"

God. The way she says his title like it is an endearment… That hasn't changed. He is now in danger of crying, though he has to fight his instinctive urge to hold her. "Misaki," Takumi says her name now, approaching her.

She averts her face, avoiding his gaze. "So, fireworks this year huh? Did one of the companies donate those?"

He sinks into the chair nearest, gazing up at her. "Yes, thanks to you." It feels like a scene from a play, and he the embattled Romeo gazing up at the unreachable Juliet. Takumi knows he is not fit to apologize to her, not for the terrible way he treated her. Her scent is familiar and comforting.

His gaze falls on her hand, braced on the edge of the desk, long-fingered and strong. He lowers his cheek to the wooden surface, careful not to touch her, but close enough that he can feel the warmth of her skin on his face. This should be enough, he tells himself, closing his eyes. Let this be enough.

After a few minutes of silence, she speaks again. "For the record, you're a terrible liar, President. You might want to work on your poker face before you continue your political career."

Takumi sits up, heart pounding as he finds her face inches from his. "What do you-"

She pushes his hair away from his forehead. Her touch sends shivers down his spine. "It's okay. You were doing what you thought best." A burst of light illuminates her face, exposing the expression on her face, and it takes his breath away.

"I believed you at first, though," she states, glancing out the window again. "You were so convincing with the ' _I wasn't serious about her_ ', and that little ' _All hail the Queen_ ' bit at the end. But then I thought about it, President." Misaki quotes him with a mocking smile. "You were flinching the entire time you said that."

Casting a sidelong glance at him, she grins. "And it would be just like you to sacrifice yourself and say something like that. I know you, President. I've been watching you a long time." One of her eyebrows goes up as she says the last part. "I know how you think, too."

Her look makes him blush. "Are you some kind of perverted stalker?" he blurts out, crossing his arms.

"Wow, you hurt my feelings, President," she states, completely unaffected. "But you're kinda cute when you're all defensive like that."

She truly is the Queen, he thinks, to have that kind of confidence. And she's right. Takumi stands, slipping his hands into his pockets, so he isn't tempted to do anything crazy like kiss her. "So you're getting married tomorrow."

The corner of her lips goes up. "I didn't know you were keeping track of the days. Are you going to stop me?"

He thinks of his mother, of Igarashi's words, and of his own helplessness. "Do you want me to?"

Her gaze meets his. "Finally, someone asks," she sighs, rising to her knees. The skirts hamper her progress, so Takumi offers her a hand.

The desks are old and wobbly. They tip, and Misaki loses her balance. He ends up catching her, his arms going around her waist to steady her as he staggers back to regain his balance.

"Well, that was embarrassing," she quips, averting her gaze. "Here I was trying to look cool in front of you before-"

Takumi cuts her off, hugging her tighter than he has held anyone else before. One minute, he tells himself, one minute to lose himself in her, to make enough memories to last for the rest of his life. He slides his fingers into the silk of her air, pulling her close with his other arm. Misa is just the right height for him to brush his lips against her temple, to bury his nose in her hair.

Her fists dig into the back of his uniform jacket, clutching him just as tightly. She burrows deeper into his arms, hiding her face in his shoulder. Her shoulders are smaller than Takumi expects, and once again he is reminded that she is just a teenage girl, the same as him.

"I love you," he admits here, in the darkness and the quiet of an empty classroom.

Misaki goes still.

Takumi cradles her head against his chest, afraid to see her face. Surely, by now, she can hear the thundering of his pulse. She takes a deep breath, her shoulders straightening. Great, is she preparing to reject him?

"But," he interjects, looking at the ceiling. "I know I'm not even close to being the man you deserve. I'm just some kid from school, and you're the Prime Minister's daughter."

Her hand comes up to cover his mouth. "That's enough, Takumi," she tells him, eyes shining. "You told me your true feelings, and that's all I needed to know."

Lowering his head, he kisses her fingertips, watching her eyes go liquid. "I love you," he repeats, muffled by her skin.

Misaki grins, a genuine smile that wraps his heart in warmth. "Are you asking me out, President?"

"I …," Frankly, Takumi has no idea what he's doing.

"You don't seem to think you're my equal, though I disagree." He can see the determination in her eyes. His natural competitiveness fires up in response.

Okay, now he is annoyed. "Fine. I won't, then. I'm leaving the country in a few weeks," he tells her, scowling. "I'll be studying abroad."

"How's your English, President?" she quips, gazing up at him. "You placed second, after me, as I recall."

Is she provoking him? He narrows his gaze. She rises on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his lips. "Come stand beside me someday, Takumi. I'll give you my answer then."

"What is that supposed to mean?" he demands, bewildered. His lips are still tingling from the contact.

Her lips twitch. "It means, you should learn to lie better by the next time I see you. Be good, President. I have to go now."

"Wait, Igarashi gave me this." Takumi hands over the phone. "This is how I found you."

"Here I thought it was some kind of fate," she sighs. "President, you're too honest. Fine, give it to me, I'll take it back to him," she mutters, her brows drawing together. "But for the next few weeks, don't look for me on the news or the internet. Promise me, Takumi." Misaki holds up her pinkie.

"We aren't in kindergarten, anymore," Takumi tells her, hooking his finger around hers anyway.

"You promised," she announces, her eyes grave.

"Of all the things you want me to promise, this is what you want? Not to search for you online?" he repeats, just to be clear. She nods.

"Okay."

Misaki lets go of his hand. "Have a good life, Takumi, ok?"

Before he can say anything back to her, she is running out the door, leaving him in the dark, both literally and figuratively.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Okay guys, thank you so much for your patience. This story is almost at the end. Thank you again. I know they're OOC mostly, and I appreciate that you continued to read them anyway. You guys rock. Epilogue is next.

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Two months fly by and now Takumi is at the airport for his flight to London.

"Are you going to be okay?" he asks Sasuke, fingers tightening around his luggage as he stares out the glass to the waiting plane.

"I'm fine, big brother," Sasuke replies with a laugh, wrapping a scarf around Takumi's neck. They exchange a look.

His dad clears his throat, hair combed neatly and wearing his worn-out shirtsleeves from his days as a salaryman. He is emotional as he reaches out to touch Takumi's shoulder with shaking fingers. "Son…," he croaks. His dad is sober this early in the day, a rare occurrence.

Takumi pulls him into a hug, realizing that he hasn't embraced his father in years. "Dad, it's okay. I'll be okay." His father feels frailer, smaller than he remembers. Maybe it is Takumi who has grown, but now his father has to tilt his head back to look him in the eye.

"I'm sorry for being a terrible father, Taku…," the older man begins, but Takumi shakes his head.

"Just take care of Sasuke, please," he says, forcing a smile on his face. "I'll write every day."

Behind them, a mass of Seika students wave at him, some of them in tears. "Bye, President!" Yukimura squeaks, waving. His other friends are there too, they must have left school en masse during their lunch break to see him off. The three senior girls are here too, smirking at him. "Please come back soon!"

He waves, touched by their presence. "Thanks for coming, everyone!" When Takumi smiles, some girls shriek in reaction, as if he was an idol.

His eyes scan the crowds, though time is running out. "Bro, you have to go, they announced your flight," Sasuke pokes him.

"Yes, right!" he mutters, checking his ticket.

"President, where is your girlfriend?" Nose-ring asks. "She should at least see you off."

"Ah, I have to go!" Takumi blurts out, bowing to the crowd.

"Girlfriend?" his dad asks curiously.

He shakes his head. "Goodbye, everyone. See you again."

As he turns, he catches sight of gold eyes from the corner of his eye, from the mezzanine level overlooking the airport area. Taking was careful not to check the papers or news, as he had promised her, but his heart is racing. Is she here?

He stares at the empty second floor level, disappointment churning in his chest. No, he must have imagined it.

Blinking, he shakes his head to clear it. "Okay, guys," Takumi begins, but then Misaki peeks out from behind a pillar, her dark hair now shoulder-length. He stops abruptly, his eyes locking onto hers.

The ghost of a smile crosses her face. She waves and sends him a wink. To his horror, Takumi can feel himself blushing. He squints at her, though, trying to see if there is a ring on her finger.

Igarashi pops up beside her, waggling his fingers too. Takumi scowls, stomping down the walkway into the plane.

As the flight takes off, he rests his chin on his fist, all nervousness gone, though his heart hurts. So did they really get married? He sighs, settling in for the long flight.

* * *

Six months later

Takumi is awakened by his buzzing phone. "H-hello. Yes?" he slurs, sitting up. The number is unknown.

"Takumi? It's Tora."

He groans, collapsing back on the bed. "What is it, Igarashi? It's six in the morning here."

"Listen, Takumi, I'm calling to tell you about Misaki," Igarashi says, his voice unusually somber. "She was in a car accident tonight, with her father. Ryutaro Genji was killed instantly."

"What?" Takumi bolts upright a second time, now completely awake. "How is Misa?"

"She's sedated, but fine," Igarashi sighs. Takumi can hear the weariness in his voice. "It happened about eight hours ago. She doesn't know yet. President, I don't know how to tell her."

Takumi really cannot blame him. He cannot imagine what it would be like to tell Misaki her father was dead, even if their relationship had been complicated. He blurts out, "Would you like me to come back?"

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he freezes. What is he doing, offering this? He has no place in that world, a fact made all too clear to him that night six months ago. They are probably married, and it is not his place to interfere.

"Will you?" Igarashi sounds relieved. "Please, if you could come, it would make things easier. I'll send the jet for you." As if London was a few blocks away. Resentment makes Takumi clench his fists, but he knows now is not the time for that.

"Fine, I'll take a short leave of absence and head back," he sighs.

"Yes, text me when you are at the airport. We may already have a plane there," Igarashi tells him. "And, President? Thank you."

As Takumi hangs up, he stares at the smartphone, wondering what on earth he is doing.

.

* * *

.

It turns out that the most time he can take off as a scholarship student is five days. Seven, if you include the weekend. But Takumi takes it anyway. In an hour, he is at the Heathrow airport, escorted by men in sunglasses and black suits to a lavishly appointed jet. On the plane, he falls asleep almost instantly, unconscious for most of the ten-hour flight.

When he arrives, he is whisked away immediately from Narita via limousine to a private hospital. He notes that Tokyo is decked in black banners and photos of Ryutaro Genji. The people outside have grim expressions on their faces.

A row of nurses awaits him at the hospital lobby, and they point him to the exclusive penthouse elevator. Security guards escort him from the ground floor, through the clustered journalists and camera crews, and help him get through to the elevator. He is glad that he isn't famous. The media mostly ignores him.

Though he is shocked at the display of wealth, he also welcomes it as it expedites his way to Misaki.

Igarashi is sitting on a bench in the hallway, his head in his hands. "Iga- Tora," Takumi calls out. It was way past time that he and the other boy were on a first name basis.

"Takumi," the other boy greets, unfolding himself from the seat. "How was the flight?"

"Tell me about Misaki," he insists. Tora runs a hand through his already rumpled hair, and Takumi can see the dark circles under his eyes.

"She hasn't woken up yet," Tora explains. "The sedative should have worn out by now but she just isn't waking up. The doctors say she is just taking time to heal. It's alright, though, it seems to be fairly normal. They've scanned her, and there are no internal haemorrhages. It might be the concussion, she took a pretty hard hit to the head, near the eyes. They're bandaged, just in case you panic. She's not blinded or anything like that. I had a bit of a scare too when I saw her. "

Takumi nods, noting how exhausted Igarashi sounds. The valet appears, scowling. "Master Tora, you should be resting. You haven't slept in two days," he orders, grabbing the younger man by the shoulders. "And Master Usui, welcome back."

"Just go ahead inside," Tora mutters, waving at the door. "I'll join you in an hour."

"Two hours," the valet corrects, dragging him away.

Takumi pushes the door open, and the first thing that hits him is the scent of the room. It does not smell like any hospital he has ever been in. In fact, it smells more like a spa or a hotel. The size of the room alone is bigger than the first floor of his house. His attention is immediately drawn to the bed in the centre, where Misa rests. The beep of the monitors around her break the silence of the room.

Dropping his bag, Takumi staggers closer until he is standing by the bed.

A bandage decorates her eyes, like Igarashi said, and a purplish-yellow peeks out from the white gauze. The cut on her lip draws his fingers, though he stops before he touches her, remembering how soft they were. She sleeps deeply, a fairy princess under a spell.

"Hey," he sighs. "You look like you got into a fight and lost."

She is even more battered than the last time he saw her, and in the hospital bed, she looks like a child. Takumi strokes the hair away from her forehead, swallowing past the lump in his throat that appeared when he saw her.

"Come on, Ayuzawa, you have to wake up."

Her skin is soft, so delicate it feels like it would tear if he pushed down too hard. He traces her eyelashes with his fingertips, stroking her brows as he fights his emotions. Still, she sleeps, her breathing even.

The beeping of the heart monitor picks up, catching his attention.

"Can you hear me?" Takumi asks, leaning closer to her ears. He checks the door to make sure it is firmly shut, then whispers, "I came back to wake you, Misaki. I wanted to tell you..."

At that moment the door opens, and Takumi straightens up, turning to face the new arrival. To his surprise, his mother stands in the doorway, clutching Misaki's grey hoodie in her hands.

"Taku… what are you doing here? Why aren't you in London?" she demands, walking up to him.

Emotion thickens his throat. "Mom…," he chokes out. What is it, Takumi wonders, that makes every cell in his body cry out at the sight of his mother?

Wordlessly, she hugs him. He tries to summon his hostility but it doesn't come. Closing his eyes, he tries to contain himself. It has been years since she touched him like this, stroking his hair like he was a little boy again.

Why is he this upset? Misaki is merely asleep, he tells himself. She will wake soon.

When his mother releases him, her cheeks are wet. "I'm sorry," his mother sobs. "I'm sorry for abandoning you and Sasuke. I've been a failure as a mother, and I know I can't expect your forgiveness." Takumi hugs her again, this time offering her comfort. He notes how much smaller she is now, and how delicate her shoulders are. "I did miss you boys so much. I'm not excusing my behaviour. Your forgiveness is much more than I deserve, Taku. I tried to take Sasuke since I thought that you could handle your father, and he was so young then. I thought he needed his mother more than you did."

"Dad hurt you," he tells her with a sigh. "I understand why you left." To his surprise, he means it. She cries harder, unburdening herself of the guilt of the years between them.

Afterwards, Takumi pulls up a chair beside Misaki's bed, and his mother sits, clutching the grey hoodie. "I gave this to her," she tells him. "When she was in middle school. She was wearing this at the time of the crash. It was covered in her father's blood, so I washed it for her." She lays the soft fabric on Misaki's chest like a blanket. "It might comfort her."

Takumi's first memory of that sweater is of Misa, in the alley behind the butler cafe, her gold eyes gleaming. He glances at the unconscious girl, his fingertips grazing hers as he remembers the panic and excitement he had felt at being discovered.

"She wore it every time I saw her outside of school," Takumi shares, his gaze raking over Misaki's sleeping face.

"She and I were alike, both of us seeking shelter in the Igarashi household from our abusive family members," his mother sighs, stroking Misaki's hair. "I never thought that she would fight so hard for you. I'm sorry about my words last time. Life is too short to run away from love."

"What do you mean?" Takumi's heart kicks up. "It's too late, anyway."

His mother meets his eyes. "She called off the marriage to Tora. Did you not see it on the news?"

He shakes his head, backing away, warmth spreading through his chest. "Misaki told me not to-" Takumi's voice cracks, and he shuts his mouth, eyes going to the unconscious girl. Taking a deep breath, he tries again. "That's not possible, I saw them together at the airport when I left. Why would Igarashi be here, then? Isn't he Misa's husband?" He does not dare raise his hopes.

"I guess you're right, technically Tora is the next of kin. Tora's father, Hideo, was a distant cousin of Misaki's mother," his mother murmurs. "That was another of the reasons for their engagement; they wanted to preserve the Ayuzawa bloodline."

"I would have taken her last name, too, if the marriage had gone through," Igarashi interrupts, appearing at the door. The blond boy saunters in and presses a kiss to Takumi's mom's cheek. She raises a hand to his head, patting his cheek lightly.

"You should get some rest," she scolds him. "How are you doing, Tora?" Takumi cannot suppress the rush of jealousy, but his mom probably spent the same amount of time in the Igarashi household as she had in the Usui home. Igarashi evades the question, though he leans into her hand.

"I'm fine. She hasn't woken yet?" Igarashi bends over the sleeping girl, brushing his lips over her forehead as his eyes meet Takumi's.

Out of place, Takumi shakes his head, shoving his hands into his pockets as he strides to the window.

"We would have called you in if she woke up," his mother sighs.

"Thanks. Takumi, is that all your luggage?" Igarashi gestures to his backpack.

Takumi nods. The other boy slings an arm around his shoulders, herding him out the door. "Come, we got you a hotel room. You must be exhausted from the flight in."

.

* * *

.

The hotel sits on top of the hospital, and Igarashi whisks him to the penthouse floor. The suite makes his eyes hurt from the glow of the marble and furniture. It reminds him of Misaki's expensive but empty apartment, though the hotel room is better furnished.

Igarashi hands him the card key with a wink. "My suite is through those doors," he chirps, pointing, before he trudges to the bed, falling face-first.

"Right. But who will stay with Misa?" Takumi asks, dropping his backpack on the couch.

"Your mum for now. We can take shifts," Igarashi rolls over, already half-asleep. "Go shower, President. You must be tired."

.

Takumi showers quickly. When he steps out, the valet is in the room, hanging a stack of clothing for him in the closet. How convenient, he thinks, scowling.

"We still have the clothes we got for you in Okinawa, President Usui." the man tells him, picking up Igarashi in his arms like a baby. "My master needs to rest. Feel free to sleep or go downstairs."

"Wait. What is your name?" Takumi asks awkwardly. "I'm not President anymore, please call me Takumi."

"I am Shinoda," the man replies with a bow. "Thank you for coming, President Usui. Master Tora would not have told you, but his father perished in the car crash that took the Prime Minister's life. His mother is currently arranging the funeral."

"What?" Shocked, Takumi sits on the bed.

"Yes. Lady Genji is all that Master Tora has left. Please do not take her away from him," the man pleads, bowing his head. "I beg of you."

Tora stirs. The man cradles him closer. Worry lines Shinoda's face as the valet looks at his master, and in spite of himself, his heart hurts at the sight. Vulnerability fills the older man's face. There is no doubt in Takumi's mind that Shinoda loves Igarashi.

He bows back and grabs some clothes before heading back to the bathroom to change. The suite is empty when he comes back out. Grabbing a sweater, Takumi heads out.

.

The sun has set by the time he gets to the hospital room. His mother sits on the only couch in the room, reading an article on her phone.

"Have you told Sasuke you're here?" she asks, patting the space beside her on the sofa. Takumi shakes his head, sinking into the padded leather.

"I'm only here for a few days," Takumi sighs, studying Misa's figure on the bed. "I don't want to interrupt his studies."

"I guess I'm one to talk," his mother laughs. "I haven't made contact with him."

"How are you, though? Shinoda told me about Mr. Igarashi…," Takumi trails off. How do you ask your mother about the death of her long-term lover?

She smiles sadly, shaking her head. "Cecilia was very nice to take over the funeral arrangements. She and I decided to keep it low-key and private. I'm alright. Truly, I am. He was wonderful and most of all, he had treated me well, and I am sorry he is gone." She smiles at him, ruffling his hair. "Taku, you're old enough to understand this. I didn't love him, and he didn't love me, but that was our arrangement."

"I see," he mutters, shifting in his seat.

"Do you think I can still come home?" she asks, avoiding his gaze. Before he can answer, his mother laughs. "Of course I can't. It's too late, I guess."

"Why don't you try?" Takumi doesn't know where the words come from, but the hope on her face makes him continue. "Maybe if you talk to Dad or Sasuke?"

"Maybe I will," his mother sighs. "But, Taku, tell me how you've been. I want to know how you like studying in England." She touches his hand, smiling shyly. "I know it's a bit late but I would love to catch up."

They spend the next three hours catching up, talking about their lives.

Takumi hasn't talked to his mother like this, not ever, and realizes that she is far from the monster he imagined her to be. Instead, she is a flawed human being, and that makes it easier for him to understand her previous decisions.

"So why did you come back?" his mother asks again, glancing at the clock. It is almost ten.

"Because it is Misa," he tells her simply. She nods, accepting that.

The doors open, and Igarashi walks in. "Any word?"

Takumi shakes his head. The dark circles under Igarashi's eyes are still there, though he looks less haggard. He settles on Takumi's other side, slinging an arm around his shoulders. It feels natural now, Takumi muses, and a lot less forced.

"Have you both had dinner?" Igarashi asks. Takumi can hear the hoarseness in his voice, and thinks that if things had gone differently, Igarashi would have been his step-brother.

"No, but were you able to get some rest?" His mother shoots back.

Igarashi- no, Tora, smiles, though it is a shadow of his former grin. "A little. Come, let's grab a bite downstairs."

"You two go ahead," Takumi tells them. "I'll stay with Misa just in case she wakes up."

"Are you sure?" Tora quirks a brow. "I can grab something for you." Somehow Tora's brattiness has melted away, replaced by a quiet that wasn't there before.

Takumi smiles. "Thank you."

While they exit the room, his mother reaches up to pat Tora's shoulders. The blond boy shoots him a wary look over his shoulder. It does not bother Takumi as much as it did earlier.

He pulls the chair next to Misaki's bed, gently brushing his fingertips against hers. "So, Misa, what have you been up to?"

The next day, Takumi is shaken awake by Tora. Disoriented, he sits up. He pauses mid-stretch when he notes the black suit and white armband on the other boy.

"Sorry to wake you, President, but your mom and I have to be somewhere today," Tora drawls, slipping on an expensive pair of sunglasses. "Let me know if anything changes in Misa's condition." Takumi realizes he has not offered his condolences to Tora yet.

"Wait- Iga…," Takumi swallows hard. "Tora."

"What is it?" Tora lifts the shades, exposing his red-rimmed eyes.

"I'm… I'm sorry for your loss," Takumi tells him, laying a hand on his arm. "May I come to pay my respects?"

Tora's lips wobble dangerously, and his eyes fill with tears. Then, inhaling deeply, the other boy regains his composure and nods, putting the sunglasses back on.

"Thank you for offering," he replies, clearing his throat. "But you need to be with Misa right now. I appreciate the thought, President."

Over Tora's shoulder, Shinoda makes eye contact with him, his black gaze piercing Takumi's. He scowls and turns, following Tora's exit down the hallway.

.

* * *

. 

The doctor comes by at noon to check Misaki's stats. "It's worrisome that she has not regained consciousness," she tells Takumi, "but Miss Genji may just be taking her time to wake. This is not unheard of."

As jet-lag catches up with him, Takumi falls asleep on Misa's bedside. He dreams about chasing her underwater through a forest of seaweed, and his butler uniform weighs him down. Her pale skin glimmers just out of reach, and he makes it to shore, rising out of the water. His hand is wet.

Liquid drips on his skin. Takumi wonders if he is dreaming when he hears the whispered, "President."

Jerking into a sitting position, his gaze crashes into golden eyes. Misaki stares back, tears plopping from her chin to his hand as she yanks the bandages off.

"Wait, don't do that. Let me call the doctor-" he blurts out, stopping her hands with his.

"President," she croaks out, "What are you doing here?"

"I- uh…," Takumi does not know what to say.

She reaches out to him, heedless of the IV drip in her arm, fingers trembling. "Am I dreaming? Am I dead?" Her touch is icy on his cheek. Instinctively he turns his face into her hand, cradling it with his.

"You're fine, Misaki," he states. "You'll be okay."

At this, her lower lip quivers. "My father is dead." This is not a question.

"Yes," Takumi says, watching her face crumple. His heart aches for her, but he cannot lie to her. Her relationship with her father was complicated, but Takumi cannot even imagine what Misaki must be going through right now,

He holds her as she breaks down, her shoulders shuddering with the force of her sobs. She clings to him, tears soaking his shirt as she weeps. All he can do is stroke her hair and tell her everything will be okay.

Minutes pass, or maybe hours, he doesn't know. In his jet-lagged, sleep-deprived state, Misaki keeps him going. The storm eventually passes and her sobs quiet down. He pours her a glass of water and hands her a tissue.

Wearily, she asks again, "Why are you here?"

"I...," Takumi can't stop himself from pushing the stray locks of hair behind her ear. "I had to come. Tora called me and… It was you, Misa."

She lowers her gaze, nodding. "I see. Tora made you come."

"What? No," he insists, tipping her chin up. "Look, I'm in the middle of my first semester at a high school half a world away. Nothing would have made me come back except you."

"Are you trying to tell me something, President?" she whispers, a hint of the Queen in her tone.

He leans forward and kisses her forehead. "Figure it out, Ayuzawa," he mutters, his ears on fire. If he thinks about how close he came to losing her… Three people died in that crash, and only Misaki walked away.

Her arms go around him and hug him with a surprising strength. He returns her embrace, cradling her until she falls asleep on his shoulder.

When he is sure she is unconscious, he lays her on the pillows, brushing the tears from her cheeks. Even now, his chest twists at the sight of her. Her fingers still grip his shirt. He has to pry them open to release himself.

Stretching, he gets up, only to find Shinoda at the door, glaring daggers at him. "A word, if you please, President Usui?"

Takumi sighs, following him out the door. The hallways are quiet; it is past ten, the wall clock tells him, and the suites on this floor cater to the rich and famous. They turn a corner to a dead end, and the man whirls to face him.

Shinoda stares down at him, his face a blank mask. "President Usui, you must leave."

"Tora flew me all the way here, for Misa," Takumi tells him, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"And now Lady Genji is awake. Your work here is done," the valet enunciates. "You can sleep one more night here, and I shall have the plane readied to bring you back."

"I'm not done yet here," Takumi argues.

The valet closes his eyes, as if praying for patience. Then he opens them again. "You are a scholarship student at a prestigious boarding school. You cannot afford to take so much time off."

Takumi knows this, but being reminded by the valet irritates him further. "That is none of your business, Shinoda."

"Neither is this matter," the older man shoots back. "Lady Genji is none of yours."

"Shinoda!" Takumi and the valet both turn to see Tora standing at the edge of the hallway, clad in black.

The valet bows stiffly. "Master Tora. We should head back upstairs."

"Tora, Misaki woke up tonight," Takumi interjects over the valet's statement, earning him a glare. "I'm afraid she knows about her father."

Tora massages his temples, looking much older than his seventeen years. "I see. Thank you for telling me, Takumi. I just checked in to see her. She's resting right now. Did she cry?"

Takumi nods. An awkward silence descends.

"What were you telling Takumi, Shinoda?" The blond boy demands, now focusing his attention on the valet.

"Master Tora, it is for your own good. Lady Genji…," the older man mutters, the only sign of his discomfort the frown between his eyebrows. "She is to be your wife. It is for your future as Chairman of the corporation."

Tora stalks towards the older man. Should he intervene, Takumi wonders, or should he just leave? It seems as if the blond boy is ready to do violence.

The slap startles him, and happens so quickly that the only sign of it is the red cheek of Shinoda. "Master Tora, I am here to protect your future," he repeats, staring at the younger man.

"You really want me to marry Misaki?" Tora hisses, his hands clenching into fists.

"Hey, now," Takumi interjects, getting ready to jump in if Tora starts throwing punches.

"You bastard," Tora spits out, raking a hand through his perfect hair. "Don't you understand, we're free now?"

"What?" The shock on Shinoda's face reflects what Takumi is feeling.

"If I become the chairman, I'm going to do it on my own merit, on my own terms. Not because I married Misaki Ayuzawa Genji," Tora growls. "Because I am Tora Igarashi. As for my future…" He yanks the other man's necktie, pulling his head down. "You are my future, you idiot. I love Misa like my sister, but you are… You're it for me."

At this, Takumi beats a hasty retreat, leaving them their privacy. He ducks into Misa's room again, closing the door behind him. Does this mean Misaki is now free? Takumi feels a loosening in his chest, and he gulps in deep lungsful of air, still in shock.

She sighs, turning over in her sleep. Drawn like a moth to a flame, he finds himself at her bedside again, his fingers reaching out to touch her.

"It's been a long day, hasn't it?" he murmurs, stroking her cheek with a knuckle. "Sleep well, Misaki. I'll be here when you wake."

.

* * *

.

In the morning, Takumi is awakened by voices. The doctor and residents surround the bed. Misaki is up, her face expressionless as they examine her. As if she can sense him, her gold eyes snap to his, through the crowd. He gives her a reassuring smile, sitting up.

Her sweater drops to his lap. She must have put it on him while he slept. He clutches it, meeting her gaze again. The ghost of a smile plays around her lips.

The doctor clears her to check out in the afternoon. "Make sure you take painkillers if you need it, Lady Genji," she announces. "I'll work on your discharge papers. And… my sincerest condolences on the loss of your father."

Misaki nods, looking tired again. The doctor nods to Takumi and heads out.

"Are you hungry?" he asks, returning the sweater to her.

She smiles and nods.

. 

Fifteen minutes later Takumi finds himself standing in front of the Butler Cafe, looking up at the sign. It wasn't too far from the hospital. Nervous at coming into his old workplace again, he steels his resolve and pushes the door open.

"Welcome to the- Takumi!"

He is engulfed in hugs before he can say anything. Hotaka and Eiji smother him while Satsumi beams from the corner.

"What are you doing here? Why aren't you in England?" his former boss demands.

Once he can breathe, he gives them a bow and a sheepish smile. "Um, can I please borrow your kitchen?"

.

Misaki is on her feet, talking to Tora, when Takumi walks in. "President," she greets, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him. The two of them talk like they used to, standing close to each other, but even he can tell that things have changed, that there is some distance now.

Tora smiles too, and he is glowing. Takumi heads to the table with the container. "Have some lunch."

"Oh, yay, omurice," Tora quips, sitting at the table. "Can I have half of that?"

Misaki's face goes blank. "No. This is mine." She ignores Tora's pout, shoveling the creamy egg into her mouth.

Takumi has to turn away to hide the blush that creeps across his cheeks at her declaration. She eats in silence, ignoring Tora's stares. The food is gone in minutes. Takumi hands her a bottle of water, which she drains immediately.

"How long are you here?" Misaki asks, once she is done.

"Well," Takumi crosses his arms. It's a fair question, and one that he thought about on his way back from the butler cafe. "I've got until this weekend to fly back in time for class on Monday, but seeing as you're awake and safe, I should probably fly back sooner. Shinoda was correct, I'm a scholarship student and I shouldn't take too much time off so soon."

"The plane is at your disposal, of course," Tora drawls. "Thank you for coming out here."

"I see," is all Misaki says, rising to her feet. "Tora, may I speak with the President alone?"

The blond boy laughs. "Of course. I'll go get your discharge processed, Misa. See ya, Prez."

"I'm not the president of Seika anymore," Takumi protests weakly. "I'm just Takumi Usui now." Tora waves as he exits the room.

Misaki stands before him, averting her gaze. She bows deeply, her hair obscuring her face. "Thank you," she tells him, "For coming back. And thank you for the meal. I thought I would never be able to have this again. It was wonderful."

"Stand up," Takumi laughs, pulling her up by the shoulders. "It's alright."

Golden eyes peer into his. "President, are you still in love with me?" Point-blank as always.

"Are you?" he shoots back, watching her step closer to him. Her head tilts back so she can meet his gaze. The shadows under her eyes are new, he notes, but her skin is still creamy. He holds his hands behind his back to stop himself from touching her.

She gives him a lopsided grin. "What would you do if I was?"

"I'd say you were crazy," he snorts, running a fingertip over her eyebrows. "Or foolish. I'm a broke scholarship student who goes to school halfway around the world, from a no-name family. And you… you're Misaki. You are way out of my league, Queen."

"I'm just a girl, President," she murmurs, a new, cynical note in her voice. "An orphan now, too."

"Misaki…," he begins, not quite sure how to comfort her.

"I'm not some pretty doll that people want to place on a pedestal," she scowls, stepping back. "If you think I'm like that, then maybe you have the wrong idea. I'm not some idealized princess, President. I'm my own person, which I made clear to my dad when I cancelled the wedding." Her back rigid, she crosses the room to start packing her things. "I don't need to be protected or wrapped up. I can take care of myself."

"I know," he tries again.

"Do you?" She turns her fierce gaze on him. "I didn't break the engagement for you, Takumi."

"I know, Misa. You did it for you," he replies simply, pulling her into his arms. She goes without a fight, clutching at his shoulders. Her scent fills his senses, and he holds her tighter, trying to imprint her on his skin. "And I'm so proud of you, of how you saved yourself."

Her fingers curl into fists around his lapels. "But now he's dead."

"That's not on you," Takumi protests. "It is not your fault." He closes his eyes, burying his nose in her hair. She holds him back, just as tightly.

"What are you going to do now?" he asks, releasing her.

She shakes her head, looking lost for a moment. "I have no idea. I don't have any family left on either side. My father may have appointed a guardian for me. It's strange. I've been living by myself for the past two years, and now…," Misaki's brows knit. "I don't know what's going to happen."

"Can you wait for me?" Takumi asks. "I'm pretty useless right now. We're only teenagers, after all. In a couple of years, we'll be adults, and I'll be your family then." Heat creeps up his ears at this embarrassing declaration, but Takumi doesn't take it back.

Misaki looks at him again, a smile hovering around her lips. "Is that a proposal, President?"

Now it is his turn to avert his gaze. "I'll work hard to be a man worthy of standing beside you, Misaki. Will you wait for me?"

In response, she grabs her grey sweater, yanking out the drawstring of the hood. He watches, confused, as she wraps it around his wrist and knots it. "I will. Don't forget your promise, okay?"

He smiles. "I won't." Leaning forward, he presses a kiss to her lips.

She kisses him back, twining her arms around his neck. "And I'll work hard too," she tells him, "So hurry up."

.

Takumi checks out of the hotel, taking one extra day to spend with his family. He brings his mother home to dinner, and for the first time in longer than he can remember, the Usui family sits down to a meal together. After supper, they watch the news coverage of the Prime Minister's funeral. A black-clad Misa standsnext to the state photo of her father, as the world watches. His heart twists.

His mother, understanding, pats his back. "Are you going to see her again before your flight in the morning?"

"Probably not. She must be too busy," Takumi murmurs. "And she is probably exhausted."

Later that night, though, unable to help himself, he calls her before he falls asleep. She answers on the first ring. They talk for hours, until the sky changes colours.

At long last, she falls silent. He hears her even breathing, and realizes she must have fallen asleep.

He listens to her breathe, watching the sunrise. "I love you," he whispers, careful not to wake her.

.

Three hours later, he is on a plane bound for London.

...


	14. Epilogue

**A/N: Here it is, the final chapter. Thank you so much for reading through, reviewing, sending me notes, and being generally awesome. Happy 2017 to all of you. :)**

* * *

 **.**

 **EPILOGUE:**

.

* * *

.

Two Years Later

.

"Please welcome Misaki Ayuzawa Genji, Double Majoring in Political Science and Diplomacy and International Business, to give the opening remarks for this year's freshman class."

Misa climbs the stage, her hands cold as she grips the folded paper. Public speaking still does not come easy to her, but she is getting better with practice. She launches into her speech, looking across the sea of young people, just like her. Unlike high school, this university does not have uniforms, so everyone is dressed casually.

In spite of herself, Misaki's eyes scan the audience. She finishes her address, forcing a smile on her face, and takes a bow, before sitting back down beside Tora onstage.

"Nice speech," he quips, patting her shoulder. "You seemed… ah, distracted."

"Why are you here?" she mumbles, crossing her arms to hide her disappointment.

"Igarashi Corp donated a building," he grins, hiking up a shoulder in a shrug. "So I'm here both as a representative of Igarashi Corp and as a student. But are you looking for someone in particular?"

She shakes her head, knowing that if she gave Tora any more fuel, he would take it and run with it. "No, I mean, why did you choose my university?"

Tora smirks. "Well, it is an Ivy League school, Misa darling. Besides, I think we both needed to get out of Japan for a bit. And you'd miss me if I wasn't around, right?" He winks at her and turns back to the serious-faced Shinoda, who is sitting on his other side. Misa has to admit, flying to the other side of the world was less difficult with Tora and Shinoda, though she still misses Takumi Usui.

Her thoughts drift to the boy in question. Last she heard from him was about a month ago when he had called to tell her she might be seeing him soon. Holding back a sigh, she masks her disappointment with a blank expression.

The door at the back of the auditorium swings open, just as the chancellor pauses in his speech. A familiar blond head ducks in. Heads swivel towards the back, as Takumi strides in. Misa's heart rate kicks up as his green eyes lock onto hers, though from this distance she can tell his face is on fire.

The chancellor glares at him, waiting for him to sit down in the back row, before continuing.

"Grand entrance from the President, what a drama queen. Hey, Misa. You never looked at me like that," Tora snickers. Shinoda clears his throat, sending him a glare.

Misa ignores him, her gaze still on Takumi's. He stares back at her, and suddenly it feels like she can breathe again, as if there was a tightness in her chest that she had never noticed until it was gone. She struggles to keep her face expressionless, though she is afraid that she might burst into tears.

Finally, the speech is over, and the assembly is dismissed. Misa loses sight of Takumi, and panic grips her chest. "No," she mutters aloud, "he won't disappear again, not before he talks to me."

"Fool," Tora chuckles, giving her a shove. "Go find him."

She is already moving, pushing past the faculty members to run down the stairs, diving headfirst into the crowd of students heading out. Fighting the crush, she makes her way to the last row, to find no sign of Takumi. Desperately, she glances back at the stage. No sign of him there, either.

The crowd sweeps Misa out the door, and she scans the crowd for Takumi's blond mop. Suddenly, a hand grips her wrist, and she is swept into an alcove, away from the rush. Misa's back is up against a familiar chest, and long arms curl around her protectively. Takumi's scent fills her senses, sending an ache across her chest.

She closes her eyes, breathing deeply. It has been two years since that day at the hospital, two years since Takumi has touched her.

Two years of phone calls, emails, different time zones, videos on birthdays, mailed presents and midnight confessions, and now she is in his arms, and all is well. It feels too perfect, too right.

He buries his nose in her hair, sending shivers skittering down her spine. Quietly, she leans back, absorbing his presence. Amidst all the chaos surrounding them, her heart quiets down, finally at peace.

"P-president," she croaks, swallowing the lump of emotion in her throat.

"Mm?" he rumbles in her ear, his voice sending shockwaves through her system.

"Why were you late?" Misa keeps her eyes distant, afraid that she will break down if she looks at him. His lips curve against her skin.

"I had to check my mail," he laughs. Heat climbs up her cheeks.

"Are you serious?" Her spine stiffens.

"Yes," he responds, turning her in his arms. "But you called me President again."

She buries her face in his shoulder, suddenly too shy to look him in the eye. "So I did."

"But I'm just a regular student now," he tells her. "And we're schoolmates again. If you call me President again, I'll-"

"Really?" Misa's head darts up, eyes wide. "So you're really going to study here with me? At this university?"

Now she remembers how devastating those green eyes can be, up close. Her breath hitches and her stomach flutters at the emotion in his eyes. He nods, leaning his forehead against hers. "I'm going to be with you from now on."

Before she can stop herself, she pulls him by the lapels of his coat, tipping her head to the side so she can kiss him properly. He tastes like mint gum and his own unique flavor, supporting her waist when her knees give out.

And then he does something with his tongue that makes her squeak.

Takumi Usui got a lot better at kissing in the past two years. She narrows her eyes, pulling away. "Where did you learn to kiss like that, Pres-" she breaks off his title, remembering the sentence she had interrupted. She doesn't like the mischievous glint in his eye that appears at her words.

"Remember the last time I had to make you say my name?" he murmurs, his hot gaze dropping to her lips. Who is this sexy man and what has he done with her straight-laced President? The memories of a darkened closet and his lips on her skin send a wave of heat through her.

"T-Takumi," she stammers, biting her lower lip. Someone jostles her from behind, pushing her against him.

His arms steady her, pulling her close. She can hear the mad thumping of his heart under her ear. Her own arms go up around his waist, but she brushes against something that is sticking out of his coat pocket, sending it to the ground.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she tells him, picking it up. It is a sealed, padded envelope, addressed to him, from Tora's mom, Cecilia. He takes it back, smiling sheepishly.

"Why do you have a package from Cecilia Igarashi?" Misaki asks, her brows drawing together.

"Ah, this was the mail I had to pick up," he replies, his ears turning red.

She frowns, but doesn't say anything. After a few seconds, he sighs and tears the tab on the mailer. "Look, here."

Holding the ripped side of the envelope over his hand, a small box pops out into his waiting palm. She stares at it, not comprehending.

"I wanted to get something that had meaning," He pops it open, and a thin gold band winks up at her, inlaid with diamonds.

Misa's breath catches. "That's…" She cannot speak, as her eyes fill with tears.

"This was your mother's ring," Takumi confirms, pulling it out of the box. "In fact, Cecilia said this was also your grandmother's ring. Misaki Ayuzawa Genji," he begins, his green eyes piercing hers. "I love you and want to spend the rest of my life making you happy. Will you marry me?"

Misa claps one hand to her mouth, the tears spilling over as she nods. He slips the band on her trembling finger, pressing a kiss on her forehead.

Tipping her head back, she kisses him again, deeply. This kiss is sweeter, though her tears add a salty tang to it. She loves how he cradles her head with his palm as he presses his lips to hers. Time stops, the world goes away, and all she can do now is feel him against her.

When she comes to her senses, Misa realizes that they are surrounded by applause. Takumi pulls back and she blushes to find her new classmates surrounding them. Tora and Shinoda are front and center, leading the clapping and cheering.

"Congratulations, kids!" Tora drawls, wedging between them to throw an arm around each of their shoulders. He steers them outside, to a waiting chauffeured sedan. Misaki meets Takumi's eyes over Tora's shoulders, and they both exchange grins.

"Okay, before I drown from the excessive sweetness," Tora proclaims. "Get in the car. You've got all weekend to catch up, but don't you dare miss class on Monday. Got it? Scholarship students can't get bad grades." He slams the door in their faces, walking away with his hands in his pockets.

"Hmm, I wonder if he knows I always got second place after you in school?" Takumi mutters, crossing his arms. Misa laughs, leaning her head on his shoulder.

The driver nods to both of them. "Are we heading back to your condo, Lady Genji?" he asks.

"Yes," she replies, slipping her hand into his. As the car speeds away, Takumi kisses her forehead again.

"I guess we've got a wedding to plan," he quips.

"Wait, I want to graduate college first," Misa protests.

"True, true," he agrees. "But… I'll be living with you, until then. I'll have to find a way to earn my keep, eh, Lady Genji? Why are you blushing so hard?"

She squeals as he tackles her, capturing her lips again. "Is the rest of our life going to be like this?" she laughs.

"Yes," Takumi smiles. "We'll never be apart again."

.

.

\- END -


End file.
